


How the Mighty have Fallen

by TORUKAisJUSTICE



Series: The Art of Stalking [1]
Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Filthy rich Toru, I don't even know if I would continue this but damn, M/M, OOC-ness, Poor Taka, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Toruka - Freeform, Violence, yakuza-toru is so fucking hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 110,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TORUKAisJUSTICE/pseuds/TORUKAisJUSTICE
Summary: [COMPLETED]Takahiro only wanted to have a steady job to support his brother's medical bills and schooling fees, but he ended up catching the eye of a stubborn, spoiled leader of a Yakuza Family.RussianChinese





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OMG I'm actually posting this?!
> 
> This series is originally intended for short, Toruka one-shots of all kinds but erhm...things got a bit out of hand AND I DON'T HAVE ANY IDEA IF I'LL CONTINUE ANY OF THESE WORKS. Goddammit.
> 
> This Toru is the Nagisaen-Toru, you know, red hair and stuffs. Taka is in his Jinse X Boku era-look. 
> 
> I'm actually cringing at this.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own OOR. at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely collages from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19712) and [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19717). Thank you so much for them~!

“Tch.”

Kohama Ryota and Kanki Tomoya straightened up when the doors of the abandoned warehouse opened—revealing a very _pissed-off_ looking man in black suit. They have only been standing— _guarding_ —outside the warehouse, looking for potential witnesses that might get lost in the area while their boss do his usual _stuff_ inside.

And by usual stuff, they mean torturing their captive until either they talk or beg for their boss’ forgiveness. Well, whatever the captive chose, it will all end with the same, usual result— _death_.

For five minutes straight, the two loyal men endured hearing grunts and screaming and pleading for their pathetic lives. It’s nothing unusual; in fact, the two had already lost count on how many nights they had to stay and listen to the endless pleas of their detainee. Since the Young Master had assumed the position as the Head of the Yamashita Clan, there was never a week that passed without a blood being spilled in the name of the mighty yakuza clan.

_And it’s all because of the Young Master’s temper, that gradually worsens, as day meaninglessly passed._

The two didn’t even have to look up to see the annoyed look on the otherwise usually bored face of their Boss. It was always like this—the Young Master would go out of the building, alone, and with a still-smoking silenced gun on his right hand, a cigarette perched on his thin lips and a perpetual frown etched on his handsome face.

His fiery hair shines brightly against the darkness of the night, along with the splatter of bright, crimson blood on his inner shirt and shoes.

“Why are they still trying to outdo me even if they already know that I can fucking hunt and kill them?” he asked, his deep baritone piercing the silence of the abandoned area. His two men exchanged a knowing look, not daring to say anything that may worsen the Boss’ already ruined mood in the evening.

The Young Master blows out white smoke before dropping the half-lit cigarette and stomping on it with his blood-drenched shoe, “Ryota.”

“ _Hai_?”

“Get me a change of clothes,” he said as he started walking towards the black car parked nearby, “That rat’s blood is making me sick.”

“Hai, _Aniki_ ,” Ryota nodded before running towards the other car that contains the Boss’ personal belongings—different set of clothes, all black to easily hide the color of blood; set of guns, knives, and other weapons, and many other things that are only fit for a powerful man.

Tomoya rushed forward, opening the door for the Head of Yakuza. The Young Master grunted an approval before quietly sitting inside, his face devoid of any emotions.

_Another meaningless, boring night._

“Shall we go to the Main Residence, _Aniki_?” Tomoya politely asked as he hovered outside the car. He knows that the Boss usually ends the day by drinking alone, sometimes along with Ryota and himself, in the safety confines of the Yamashita Residence—but he still wanted to confirm it.

The Young Master narrowed his eyes into slits. He doesn’t feel like going home at this hour. The night is still young and he could probably waste an hour or two in some of their family-run clubs and live houses. Bu going into those kinds of establishments meant _talking_ to other people that might aggravate his already bad mood.

 _Maybe, something different will happen tonight_ , his mind supplied.

Probably, but is it worth the hassle of going into the city?

_Maybe, maybe not._

_I wouldn’t know if I wouldn’t try._

With that thought, the Young Master lazily smirked up at his _senpai_ , his loyal man, his advisor and _friend_ , “Let’s go in one of our clubs. I feel like relaxing first before going home tonight,” he said, making Tomoya breathe a sigh of relief.

“ _Whatever_ you want, Boss,” he agreed before going into the driver’s seat. This is getting good. If the Young Master is going into clubs, then that means that his mood is starting to somewhat get better. He just hopes that nothing or no one would their to oppose the Boss or else...

Everything— _everyon_ e—will all fall before the mighty Yamashita Toru.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Moriuchi Takahiro adjusted his face mask as he was led into the back stage of this upscale club he’s about to sing for tonight. He’s been working as a freelance vocalist— _singing solo in various live house and night clubs_ —with his dutiful Gibson Les Paul guitar. It’s not like he wanted to enter this place that’s obviously meant for the rich and elites but damn, _the manager says that they’ll be paying good so I’ll be a huge fool to let this opportunity pass!_

_I just wish that everyone would stop smoking dammit!_

He looked around and much to his dismay; almost everyone is smoking in the main hall. He can even see the mist above the crowd of people, signifying the huge amount of tobacco smoke lingering in the cold, dry air.

_Don’t they know that it’s bad for their health?!_

“Please wait here until your turn comes,” the suit-wearing lady said as she pointed to a vacant seat near the stage. Taka thinks that the lady is very pretty, _albeit cold-looking_ , but he politely kept that comment to himself because they just saw each other— _it’ll be weird to just start flirting_ with her and besides, Taka really, really need this gig and money.

 _I need to buy Hiro’s medicine tomorrow_ , he reminded himself as he sat like an obedient puppy, _I can’t mess this up._

“So, should we call you Moriuchi-san—,”

“ _Taka_ ,” he immediately said, making the pretty lady blinked down at him in confusion, “That’s my stage name. Kind of,” he sheepishly said. The lady raises a perfectly arched brow but said nothing more about the topic.

“Alright, Taka, be sure to give your best performance tonight,” she then checked her phone—the kind of phone that Taka could only _dream_ of touching—let alone, _buying_ —before looking down at him, “We had a tip that the owner will be coming sometime tonight. We really should’ve hired a more professional singer but...”

“Eh? I’m quite confident with my singing skills,” he said, getting slightly offended by the lady’s insinuations. _I’m a professional singer too! I just didn’t sign up with any company, dammit!_

“Sure,” the ladies said, looking totally unconvinced before glancing at the stage, “Please do your best then, Taka.”

“Hai _, old hag_.”

“What?”

“I said yes, pretty _nee-san_ ,” Taka smiled bashfully, displaying his _angelic features_ even if his inner self is practically _murdering_ this  condescending bitch in his imagination, “Leave it to me~!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Toru grimaced as he walked inside the Club; the air is heavy and thick with various perfumes, smokes and the undeniable stench of alcohol. Ryota had already gone ahead, securing a private booth in a corner but still with the best view of... _whoever_ is performing on stage. Toru doesn’t really care.

He’s here for the atmosphere, the noise and expensive drinks that will take away all of these shitty boredom he’s been feeling lately. The crowd parted as he gracefully walks towards the booth with Tomoya in tow. These people probably felt his _menacin_ g aura which made them cower and glance at him warily even without announcing his name.

“Try to smile, _Anik_ i,” Tomoya snickered behind him, “You’re gonna scare away all the patrons with that face of yours~!”

“Then let them leave,” he said off-handedly as he plopped onto the red, plush couch, his arms instantly propping over the backrest as he crossed his legs, “I don’t fucking care.”

Tomoya shrugged and called a waiter over, “What do you want to drink, Boss?”

But Toru’s attention is already gone. He’s looking at the boy— _how did he even managed to enter this Club_?—who’s clumsily adjusting the high chair on the stage. A white acoustic guitar hangs on a strap around his shoulders—the pristine instrument looks quite _gigantic_ to the boy’s small form.

“Dammit,” the boy softly muttered before looking around, his dark curls bouncing with his every move, “Can _somebody_ help me here?!”

Toru watched as a lady officer went on stage and helped the boy to adjust he chair to suit his rather small stature. When he’s all settled on the chair, he nodded his thanks to the officer before perching the big guitar on his lap.

“I’ll have Sochi Beer!” Ryota said somewhere beside him.

“Eh?” Tomoya scratched his head, “ _Aniki_ should be the one ordering first!”

“But he’s taking his _sweet time_ ordering!” the youngest whined making Toru rolled his eyes in exasperation. He swears that he’s getting _soft_ on these two by letting them bicker around the merciless Head of the Yakuza family.

Toru tore his gaze off the weird curly-haired child to address the duo, “I’ll also have Sochi. How about you Tomoya?”

Tomoya tilted his head, like a thinking child, before a huge smile brightens up his face, “Can I have a bowl of ramen here?!”

...

“Then you should’ve gone to a _Ramen Shop_ , Tomo-kun!” Ryota complained.

“But _Aniki_ said that he wants to go here,” he then smiled so brightly that Toru had to look away because of its sheer intensity, “and who am I to say no?”

“Ugh.”

The waiter who probably had the idea that he’s serving some high-class people smartly waited for their orders without saying anything. The Yamashita Clan had a reputation of not tolerating people who goes beyond the line and he clearly values his life so he just remained silent and attentive to the three’s bickering.

“Have them prepare a bowl of Ramen, then,” Toru finally relented. He massaged the bridge of his nose for dealing with two adults acting like goddamned kids, “And some meat.”

Tomoya grinned triumphantly at Ryota before turning towards the waiter, “You heard us right? Please prepare our orders as soon as possible.”

“ _Mou, Aniki_!” Ryota whined like a bullied child, “You’re spoiling Tomo-kun that way!”

Toru perked up when he heard a singing voice in the background.

“It was just a _Ramen_ , Ryota,” he said, leaning forward to hear the voice properly, “I think you’re just jealous. You can also have one if you want.”

_“...wherever you are, I always make you smile...”_

_Heh... The kid got some voice huh..._

The boy’s singing voice is peculiar—rough and hoarse at the edges but still have this melodious touch, like he’s some sort of a rock singer trying to serenade the crowd with a ballad.

_“...whatever you say, kimi wo, omou kimochi...”_

“How about some _ladies, Aniki_?” he faintly heard Ryota’s voice in the background. Ladies? Pretty girls who wear too much make-up and perfume that will surely latch on him upon hearing his family name?

“Not tonight, Ryota,” he found himself answering as his heavily-lidded eyes set their gaze on the small form on the stage. He watched, _as if on trance_ , as the vocalist’s feminine-looking hands strum the guitar steadily, producing an acoustic arpeggio of rifts. His lithe, sweater-covered body leaning forward to reach the mic stand as he belted out a mixture of Japanese and English lyrics that sounds _oh-so_ good on his ears.

“Eh? That’s boring!” the youngest commented, “Then, what do you want to do for tonight, _Aniki_?”

_What do I want to do tonight...?_

_“I promise you forever right now...Oooh...yeah...”_ with a few strong strums on the guitar strings, the vocalist ended his soulful song. The crowd clapped and cheered for the unknown singer. The boy— _I wonder how old is he_ —lifted his gaze and brushed his curly locks away from his face, giving Toru a clear view of his features.

Tall, proud nose; full lips; flushed, creamy cheeks, and; almond-shaped eyes glinted with excitement and gratefulness as they roamed around the cheering crowd, before it met Toru’s intense, longing gaze. The smile on the boy’s soft-looking lips froze as he blinked multiple times under Toru’s stares before shyly bringing his gaze back on his guitar.

Toru blinked, clearing his mind of the heat and haze that suddenly fogged it.

_What do I want to do tonight...?_

He licked his lips, much like a predator ready to devour its chosen, _delectable_ prey.

_Rather, **who** do I want to do tonight?_

He grinned, lustfully, his eyes never leaving the singing boy on stage as he regarded the waiter beside Tomoya, “Hey,” he said, gathering three pair of eyes to look solely at him, “Do you, perhaps, know his name?”

“Who, sir?”

Tomoya and Ryota exchanged a look of confusion as they wait for the Young Master’s answer. They watched, _in horror_ , as the Boss set his eyes on the singer that’s currently singing an upbeat rock song.

_“Don’t go...”_

_Holy crap, that poor guy_ —they thought in unison, their mind starting to reach a single conclusion.

_“Don’t go...”_

“The name of that singer,” Toru said in his authorative voice, sealing the fate of yet another _toy_ that will definitely warm his bed tonight, “What is it?”

_“...it’s a mighty long fall...”_

 


	2. No One's Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings. In the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so fucking lame. I'm cringing at their OOC-ness. This isn't even funny, dammit.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Toru and Taka acting like this would definitely be a sight but nah, they're all just in my imagination.
> 
> Lovely collages from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19725) and [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19737). Thank you so much for them~!

“Your performance was good,” the lady nodded as Taka went to the back stage after singing 3 more songs that he had composed himself. They were all acoustic versions since, _well_ , he doesn’t really have a band which will back him up if he wanted to sing them in their original versions.

Taka’s eyes sparkled at the small praise but he didn’t look up from zipping his precious guitar into its case. He’s quite used on being praised but it still makes him happy to hear it.

“Thank you,” he politely said, bouncing on his feet impatiently, “So can I have my pay check now?”

_Because it’s already late and Hiro’s probably waiting for me..._

“About that...”

Taka’s head snapped towards the lady when she spoke in an unsure manner.

_Oi, oi—don’t tell me that you’re not gonna—_

“Can we talk about your pay check later?” the lady said as she nervously glanced back at the dance hall, “Our Boss wants to meet you.”

“WHAT,” Taka’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets at that, his angelic-act easily went down the drain at the thought of not having his pay check on his hands, “Why can’t you give me the pay check _now_ and I’ll meet your Boss _later_?” he snapped.

“But he said that he’ll offer you, _uh_ , bigger compensation for your uh, _services_ if you agreed...”

“And if I don’t?”

The lady shrugged, making Taka threw her an “ _Are-you-fucking-kidding-me_ ” kind of look. _What the hell?_ He spent almost an hour singing in this horrible environment and endured the leering looks from men and women outside all for this bullshit?

_I fucking need the money right now!_

Taka roughly exhaled and gripped the strap of his case tightly, “Why would your Boss even wants to meet me? I did my job properly, right?”

The lady took that as a sign of agreement so she started walking into the hallways, “Yes, you did. He’s probably gonna ask you to sing for the club regularly...or _something_...This way please.”

“Or something?” Taka made a disgruntled sound, but followed nonetheless. They weaved through the maze-like hallways, each side lined with doors that either says V.I.P or RESERVED. This is probably where the richest among the rich would hang out. I wonder what’s inside? Will there be some kind of high-class Karaoke in there?

_Whatever. I just want my pay check fast._

He originally thought that they would meet in some fancy office or one of these rooms but to Taka’s utter surprise, the lady led him to a door that definitely leads to the back exit of the club. His brows knitted in confusion at that, especially when the lady just opened the doors for him and beckoned him to go past it.

“Your Boss is out _there_?” he unsurely asked.

She nodded, “Hai. He said that he’ll meet you there, Taka-san...”

 _That’s weird_ ; he wanted to say out loud.

“Does he have my pay check there?”

“He has a _lot_ of money, Taka-san,” the lady urgently gestured him to go, “Please hurry up. He’s not the type of persons who likes to wait for something or someone.”

“Fucking rich men,” he mumbled and stared at the darkness beyond the door, “If he just gave me the pay check...” he said as his little feet carry him across the threshold. He’s not even a few steps away from the exit when the door behind him was shut closed with a loud “CLANK!”

Taka’s eyes whipped behind him, as he heard the resounding click of the lock, making the alley fall into much darkness.

_WHAT—_

_WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK—_

Taka’s wobbled towards the door and banged his fist against it, “Hey! HEY!”

What if she’s not really planning to give him anything?! And that she just basically kicked his ass out of their establishment? Just in a _low-key_ fashion?!

_Meet our Boss, my ass!_

Taka groaned as he slumped forward, resting his heated cheeks on the hard, cold metal door as the realization that he’s been fooled hit him hard like being smacked by a giant hand.

_Wah! I’m an idiot. Stupid. Stupid!_

_Gah!_

Taka just wanted to bang his head onto the door for his utter stupidity. He knows that he’s somewhat an idiot but he can’t believe that he let that pretty nee-san deceive him like a gullible _child_ that easily.

_HOW AM I GONNA BUY HIRO’S MEDICINES TOMORROW, DAMMIT!_

Now he wanted to really cry and bawl for his horrible, _horrible_ luck. He can’t just produce the money needed for his brother’s medicines, even if he spent the night searching for another live house to perform into...

_Ah..._

But he really can’t go home empty-handed like this...

His adorable little brother would be probably still up, despite being told by the doctors that he shouldn’t stay up late, waiting for him with a meal on their dining table. He’s always like that, showing his appreciation with small acts that never fails to make Taka’s chest swell with love and pride for his brother.

_How am I gonna face Hiro...?_

“If _someone_ could just lend me some cash...” he softly mumbled.

“Well, that can be arranged—,”

He was abruptly pulled out from his reverie when someone spoke behind him. Taka’s first instinct is too elbow the stranger’s gut and run the hell out of this dark alley but when he turned around and saw the stranger, his jaw almost dropped onto the hard pavement.

There he was—standing just a few feet away from Taka is the _scariest_ man he’d seen in his entire life. It’s dark but Taka’s eyes can still make out the black suit and slacks, fiery red hair and cold, unblinking eyes. His outfit is practically screaming that he’s a _Yankee-kun!_

_And he’s staring at me!_

Taka instinctively stepped backwards to escape the man’s intense gaze— _wait, why does he look so familiar_ —until his back hit the cold door behind him. _Shit! I’m trapped!_

He warily looked at the man, and then tightened his grip on his guitar case. When worse comes, he would be more than ready to smash his beloved guitar on this man’s head just to escape _. Even if it costs his only musical instrument._

“ _A-ano saa_...” Taka started with a shaking voice, “I really don’t have money on me right now so can you please just...bully someone else?”

...

The man blinked down at him, before a rather amused grin formed on his lips, “You’re funny, huh?”

“Uh...” Taka averted his gaze nervously as the man stepped closer— _hey, sir, or whoever the fuck are you, don’t just barge into my personal space, dammit_! “Really…? That’s _cool_ , but I…really, _really_ need to go, ahahaha—,”

He almost— _almost_ —shrieked like a girl when the man put his hand onto the door behind him, effectively stopping him from, well, running away. Taka gulped as he stared at the suit covered arm beside his head.

“Who says you’re going somewhere?” the deep baritone filled Taka’s ears, making a shiver run down his spine.

_What. What the hell—_

“I—!”

“Look,” the man said, leaning forward so that he’s speaking directly to Taka’s sensitive ear, “I can give you your pay check, and even more, if you’ll quietly come with me. If not, then,” Taka can see a crazy, almost maniacal grin forming on the man’s thin lips in his periphery, “…we could always use _force_. And I’m damn _good_ at that.”

_Matte, matte, matte!_

Taka’s brain is about to explode at that. So, this scary, threatening piece of shit is indeed the owner of this club?! _He’s too young-looking, dammit!_ And what’s more shocking is that—

Did he just offer some money as if Taka is some…some _MOTHERFUCKING PROSTITUTE?!_

Taka’s eyes grew the size of the fucking universe when the man’s free hand suddenly rose and was about to touch his face. He reflexively slapped the hand away, glaring at the man with full force.

“I think we’re having a _misunderstanding_ here, mister!” he snapped, huffing when the man didn’t even blinked at his explosion, “I’m not a damn prostitute to pay with your money! Just give me my fucking payche— _gah_!”

He can feel the air leaving his lungs when the man gripped his shoulders, tightly, and slammed his poor body onto the door.

“T-that hurts—,”

“Shut up,” the man growled. Taka instantly zipped his mouth at that. He’s usually on the offensive, flipping everyone that messed with him off but just one look from this person, he can instantly tell that he needs to quiet down or else, he’ll definitely die right there and then, “I know you’re not one. But I’m giving you nonetheless because you needed it, whether you’d come with me _with or without_ your consent—,”

“HELL NO!”

The man sighed exasperatedly, as if he’s done with dealing with bratty children all his life. Even when Taka started kicking and struggling against his obviously larger form, the Yankee-kun just stared at him with bored eyes, effortlessly preventing him from escaping with both of his hands.

“Let go! I’m gonna call the police, dammit!”

“Call them,” the man grinned tauntingly at him, “I’ll even _escort_ you to their station. Just be a good, little kitten and no one’s gonna get hurt, yeah?”

“Over my dead fucking body!” he hissed and roughly pushed the man away with all his might. The man looked surprised for a moment— _he’s probably not expecting me to be able to push him_ —and Taka used that instant to grip his guitar case with the neck of the instrument and raised it in the air.

 _I’m so sorry, my friend_ , he mentally lamented regarding his beloved guitar before he smashed it— _without any more hesitation because my dignity (and virginity) is on the line here!_ —on the man’s head.

“Ugh!” the man instantly went down at that as the sound of shattering wood and strings snapping filled the silence of the alley, “You fucking—,”

And just to make _sure_ , Taka smashed the broken guitar onto the man’s head for the _second—third time_ —wincing at the sound of total devastation of his oh-so precious musical instrument.

“Do you fucking—,”

Taka really had to make sure that this guy won’t be seeing tomorrow’s sunrise so he kicked— _with all of his hatred and remaining strength_ —the guy’s balls, relishing at the sight of the man curling up to cradle his probably-damaged family jewels.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!” is the man’s hearty and long groan at Taka’s rather violent act. He panted and stared at the man who’s twisting in pain before he realized that he should be running right now.

_I hope that you won’t be able to reproduce someday, bastard!_

Taka’s tired legs started to sprint towards the end of the alley, to the curb side wherein he can ask people for help, and escape this dreary situation he’s been into—but just as he’s reaching the light, the man sprawled on the dirty ground roared loudly.

“Ryota, Tomoya!” he screamed with that deep, rough voice, “Get him. Don’t let him go!”

_What—_

Taka’s feet instantly halted their rushed steps when two men—also wearing suits, _why are they even wearing that outfit in this place_ —magically appeared out of nowhere.

“Eh? Aniki’s persuasion doesn’t go well?” one asked.

“Whatever,” the other said before stalking towards Taka, fishing out a gleaming silver—wait, wait, is that what I’m thinking—gun out of his suit. Taka froze on his spot, he wanted to run, heck, his mind is already screaming at him with “ _GO THE FUCK AWAY, IDIOT! HE’S GONNA KILL YOU_!” but his limbs won’t cooperate. His legs shook in fear as the man stood in front of him, a regretful smile plastered on his face, as he raised the gun above Taka’s head.

“I’m sorry _, vocalist-chan_ ,” he said making Taka’s eyes widen in apprehension of what’s going to happen to him—he immediately thought of Hiro—on how his adorable younger brother would react upon discovering his cold, lifeless body in the morning—

_He’ll definitely cry again. I’m such a horrible brother, dammit!_

—“This is just a job…”

Taka’s quivering lips parted, to say something—plead for his life, or for the well-being of his only family—but even before he can utter a single world, he felt something painful at the base of his skull—and then—

_Gomen ne, Hiro._

_Onii-chan won’t be coming home tonight…_

—darkness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -GAH! Another chapter!  
> -I thought that this will just be a one-shot?? Does anyone of you knows how to make this a multi-chaptered fic instead of a part of a series?? I'm really dumb with these stuff T^T  
> -I smell smut in the next chapter.
> 
> Anyways, THANKS for reading~! Comments and suggestions are always welcomed~!


	3. Crying Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up on someone's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blushing while I'm writing this fucking chapter. And also, no smut. Probably on the next one, though.
> 
> Disclaimer: Though I would love them to constantly fuck each other, Toruka and OOR are still not mine.
> 
>  
> 
> Lovely collages from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21032). Thank you so much for them~!

 

Yamashita Toru had never considered raping someone who’s _asleep_ , but if this pretty, little sleeping boy won’t _fucking_ wake up in the next moments, he was going to consider _things he hadn’t thought of doing before._

Lying on his bed was a sleeping—or rather, _unconscious_ —boy. His arms were thrown over his head, tied together by the softest silk Toru can find in his room. It’ been tied tightly just to make sure that even if the vocalist would put up _one hell of a fight_ , he still won’t be able to escape Toru’s bed. His hair was messed around, forming a halo of rich, dark brown locks around his head. His eyebrows are scrunched up, as if he’s having a bad dream; eyes tightly closed while those plump-looking lips we’re moving, softly mumbling incoherent words.

The boy looked quite _good_ at that.

Especially since he’s _practically naked_ under those pristine white sheets.

 _And utterly delectable_ , Toru thought as he licked his lips in impatience. Maybe he should just slap the brat awake? Or douse him with freezing cold water?

_But that would definitely make a mess..._

He raise his palm in the air— _well, this will serve him right for smashing that cursed guitar over my head and kicking me at my balls earlier_ —and was about to really slap the boy when those eyelids suddenly moved, indicating that the boy on his bed is finally— _fucking finally_ —starting to wake up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

There was darkness.

Takahiro was damn sure about that as his eyes blearily opened, just to be greeted by another room of darkness. However, it’s nothing like the pitch-black hole he’s been into for what seems like forever—he can still make out the things above him—a small chandelier, a single dark shadow hovering above him like a _predator._

His exhausted mind tried to process where he was—what he has been doing—and tried to push himself into a sitting position when he felt his hands caught in _something_ over his head.

_Eh?_

_What—_

He tugged at it— _hard_ —to test the bonds as his mind started to enter a full panic mode. He’s sure that whatever he was tied with wasn’t rope— _it actually felt like cloth_ —but it didn’t gave out even if Taka is tugging on it with all his might.

_What the fuck?!_

_Are my feet also bound—_

He then tried pulling his legs together—only to be discovered that he’s _MOTHERFUCKING NAKED_ under the sheets that’s been covering his form the entire time!

_Holy fuck!_

His mind started to clear and flashes of the rough night he’s been into surged like a fucking _tsunami_. He’s been deceived by that club, been harassed and almost been raped by the owner of the same club and was beaten into unconsciousness by the owner’s men.

_And that said man is..._

_HOVERING JUST ABOVE HIM RIGHT NOW!_

He instantly hollered, pulling and twisting against his restraints with all his might, “What the actual fuck?!!” he rasped out, his vocal chords still tired from all the screaming he did earlier? Last night? Whatever, “What the hell?!”

“Ah, you’re finally awake.”

Taka’s almond-shaped eyes squinted in pure, unadultered anger when he heard the familiar deep voice of his captor.

“ _Fucking bastard_ —,” he hissed, still trying to free himself, “—what do you want? I already told you that I‘m not interested in your offer! You can shove all the money down your throat, asshole!”

“Eh,” the red-head inclined his head thoughtfully as he regarded Taka with an amused look, “But it’s not my money that’s _gonna go down into someone’s throat_ tonight...”

_WHAT._

Taka didn’t how to respond at that— _hell, he doesn’t even have any idea_ on what this bastard is talking about until...

Until the man moved towards the foot of the bed and with his left hand—giving Taka a view of a tattoo of something like a bat?—he clutched the thin sheet and pulled it down _slowly_ —much to Takahiro’s horror. He can feel the sheet slowly sliding down his body as the cold air hits his chest, then his nipples, then his flat stomach, then his hips, then...

“ _FUCKING HENTAI, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, DAMMIT_?!” he shrieked when his entire being body was left bare for the man’s view. He felt like he’s a gift being tantalizingly unwrapped just seconds ago!

He instantly went kicking and writhing—twisting his body to cover himself and save what was left of his dignity. While he’s giving all his might to free himself, the redhead just smiled down at him—still looking cool and composed and impassive as a _motherfucking statue_ —and damn it if that face doesn’t piss him off.

 He tiredly let his head flopped back onto the pillow after failing to make the bonds restraining him loose. He then threw a nasty, totally annoyed look at the man.

“What the hell, hentai? Admiring the _view?_!” he spat, “I’m a fucking man so let me go!”

Instead of letting him go, the man just did the exact _opposite_ of it as he climbed onto the bed with a knee, supporting his entire body with his left arm while his right arm. His annoyingly handsome face smirked down at him.

“It’s indeed a nice view,” he said in a deep, low voice, “but I’ve been patient enough to be just looking.”

The man’s warm right hand suddenly slides up Takahiro’s legs—making him froze for a moment because why the fuck is he touching me—before doing his best to kick it despite his current uh... _condition_. To his further irritation, the man just smiled down at him, as if Taka just did something good.

“You really fear nothing, huh?” he said, voice low and full of lust that even as stupid as Taka can hear it— _HIS VOICE IS PRACTICALLY DRIPPING FROM IT, DAMMIT_!, “I like that.”

“Well, I fucking hate you, asshole— _gah_!” he shrieked with a tiny voice when the man lightly stroke the insides of his calves while looking at his flustered face—those heavily lidded eyes went dark with desire and suddenly, Takahiro felt very, _very_ afraid.

Like ‘ _I’ll surely lose my virginity tonight_ ’ kind of afraid.

His eyes widened as he followed every motion of the offending hand that has been slowly caressing his thighs—landing fluttering touches here and there—upwards, dragging his nails on the smooth, flawless skin of his hips and stomach, making Taka twist away in agony and disgust.

“U—uh,” Taka choked down a cry of humiliation, not really sure on what to respond at the fleeting touches, “ _G-go away_!”

_Fuck! Why do I sound like a wimpy kid, dammit!_

“After you almost cracking my skull earlier?” the man straightened up on his knees, towering above Taka like a huge predator, “I’ll make sure to savour my _price_ tonight, with or without your fucking consent.”

He then proceeds on taking off his black, long-sleeved undershirt revealing a pair of heavily tattooed arms. Taka knows that he should be looking away, or even closing his eyes, because you really shouldn’t be staring when someone’s stripping in front of you— _but damn!_

The man’s skin is so pale—like he’s made of pure, white marble and was only tainted with the numerous marks printed on it. His arms were covered with tattoos, from his shoulders down to the forearms and his wrists—but what made Taka really gape was the head of a Chinese dragon roaring at him—it looks so alive with all the inks of green and red and black giving its shape. The head is peeking on his left shoulder—the entire body of the dragon is probably coiling behind the man’s back—while the tail end showed itself around his lower hips, disappearing into his pants.

Taka’s eyes really went wide at the realization he’s reaching— _this man is a legitimate Yakuza?!_

_Oh, bloody hell!_

_I’m fucking doomed!_

He was abruptly pulled out of his stupor when he heard the clink of metal—his eyes instantly staring at the man’s uh, _crotch_ , when he suddenly began removing his belt. Takahiro felt a chill go up his spine at that.

_Uh-oh._

_This was not good._

Taka started struggling again— _it’s fight or die now_ —a small frightened whine escaped his lips when the tug didn’t relent—which just made the man smile lasciviously.

“Fucking finally—,”

“SHIT FUCK!” Taka spat angrily ( _and quite frightened_ ), “Let me go! I’ve already told you that I’m not a whore! Get yourself a prostitute, _you sick fu—mpgh_!” he winced when his head was roughly pushed to the side, exposing the flushed column of his neck. The man ran his tongue up the side, grinning like a fool as the skin broke out into gooseflesh.

“You’re sensitive,” he declared, much to Taka’s disgust, wanting nothing but to kick that stupid face, “You’re also a virgin? That’s nice, but _fortunately_ , it won’t last for long,” he said, grinning like a madman before delving again, moving his mouth on Taka’s ears—his warm tongue sweeping the delicate pink shell and whispered, “We’re gonna have a long, _long night_ tonight, Moriuchi Takahiro...”

Taka doesn’t have the time to feel shocked on how the man knew his full name nor on the lustful act that he’s been non-consensually performing on his unwilling body because the man had pulled his hair painfully, tightening his fingers until Takahiro’s scalp burned and his eyes watered with pain. He looked up, large almond-shaped eyes shining with tears as he stared at the Yakuza head on—even if they’re practically nose-to-nose now.

“L-let me go—‘,” he tried to say until the man pulled his hair harder, making his head arched back in pain, “ _Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!_ ”

“I don’t take orders from you, Takahiro,” the man snarled, pushing him deeply onto the mattress and straddled his small body with his larger one, “And oh, I’ll let you go. _Once I’m done with you_ , that is.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think?
> 
> GAH! I'M CRINGING AT THEIR OOC-NESS. DID I JUST WROTE THIS?! 
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter is somewhat inspired by the fanfic Hallelujah (not a Toruka fanfic but I cited this because they a have a bit of similarities~)
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	4. Deeper...Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rape of Moriuchi Takahiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: This chapter will definitely contain male to male sexual intercourse and rape. If you’re not comfortable with these, please turn away from this chapter and douse yourself with holy water as soon as possible XD. But seriously, you have been warned.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: The events of this chapter is purely fictional. I do not own, nor takes any claim for the characters mentioned—especially Moriuchi Takahiro and Yamashita Toru—in this chapter. These two will never do these kinds of things in real life so please don’t sue me.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you have time, please read the important note at the end of the chapter. I will also loooooove if you’ll drop any comment/reaction/suggestion.
> 
> Lovely (nosebleed worthy) collages from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19742) and [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19774). Thank you so much for them~!
> 
> So, without further ado, on with the story~!

“N-no more—p-plea— _ah_!”

Toru smirked against the skin of Takahiro’s inner thigh. The boy’s legs are perfect— _slender_ like a woman’s but still have some lean muscles like a man’s is supposed to be— _and supple_ —oh, it looks so supple, presented at Toru like that—that he couldn’t _resist_ taking a small bite of it.

The boy whimpered at the pain— _definitely not his first taste of what Toru’s lips and teeth can do, just look at all the bite marks and hickeys decorating his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders, chest, abdomen, and now_ —

Toru lifted the leg he has been holding to to suck at the soft, tender skin.

“ _Ack!_ —it hurts, you fucker!” the boy growled, making him smirk even wider.

_So, he still have some spunk left, huh? Let’s try breaking it, ne?_

He trailed his warm, wet mouth over the creamy skin, leaving a few bites and sucks _here and there_ until his mouth hovered to the boy’s semi-erection. Feeling his breath ghosting on the pink, little member, Takahiro tried to look down— _as much as his restrains allows him to_ —with a complete look of horror and fear on his tear-streaked face.

“W-what,” he swallowed, Toru watched in fascination as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously against the pale column of his throat, “What do you think you’re doing _there_ you asshole?! You—You can’t just— _ah_ —!”

Whatever gibberish Takahiro is planning to say went flying out of the window the moment Toru engulfed the little cock with his mouth. It’s definitely smaller than his own— _a fact that he relishes on_ —and it almost perfectly fit within the hot and moist cavern of his mouth. Takahiro tastes absolutely _delicious_ —add that to the lovely whimpers and moans that the boy couldn’t prevent from escaping his kiss-swollen lips.

“N-no— _no,_ ” Takahiro chanted above him, shaking his head furiously as he tried to twist his body away from Toru’s hold, “D-don—t,” he sobbed, more tears cascading on his flushed cheeks, “Please, _please,_ s-stop—,”

Toru let go of his tender cock with a _lewd_ , slurping sound before straightening up, his heavily-lidded eyes staring straight at the panting mess below him—wondering how _perfect_ this pretty, little vocalist looks like that—tied and naked on his bed, vulnerable for Toru can see and explore, face showing extreme _disgust and fear_...

“Don’t?” Toru lowly asked as he grabbed the boy’s legs under the knees and pushed it towards Takahiro’s chest— _almost bending the pliant body in half_ —displaying all his private parts for Toru to see and taste.

“W-what—,” Takahiro’s eyes widened in horror as he was manoeuvred in a more revealing and vulnerable position, “—are y-you trying to—,”

“You’re telling me to stop, yet your body says _otherwise_ ,” he grinned lasciviously as he gave Takahiro’s member a soft, fleeting touch—making the teen gasp in surprise— “You also want this, ne?”

The boy shook his head vehemently, spraying salty crystal tears on the pristine white sheets, “N-no, _no_ , **_no_**! J-just let me go—I’m not even a girl, _dammit_!”

“Oh,” the Yakuza chuckled as ran his free hand across the quivering muscles of Takahiro’s thigh, running his fingertips on its length, ghosting past the cute member, and landed on the pair of soft, cheeks, pinching it—

“Hurts!”

—before bringing his hand back to the base of the teen’s cock and harshly gripping it to _emphasize_ his point. Takahiro’s eyes glared at him full force as he hissed out a pained groan, “I can see that very much. You’re a, _boy_ Takahiro,” he said, leaning forward to reach his captive’s sensitive ears, “But we can still enjoy the night, ne?”

He felt the boy shivered at that so Toru decided that it’s about time to show him the _pit less_ world of pleasure. Toru planned on devouring the kid soon _, but there’s nothing wrong by spoiling and giving him a bit of pleasure first, right?_

“I—I don’t want this, you perverted— _ahn!_ ”

And so, his sinful mouth went back to work once more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Takahiro wanted to slap the _living daylights_ out of his body because of the shameless moans and whimpers that this yakuza man has been _forcing_ out of his lips since he started molesting Taka’s body. He had lost count how many times he cringed whenever he breathes a helpless moan— _it was just too much._ He felt so dizzy that he thinks that he’s gonna throw up any moment from now.

He had come a few times since that bastard started _sucking_ and _licking_ and _engulfing_ his aching member with that hot, wet mouth—eliciting series of force orgasms from the vocalist—like _now_.

“ _Ah_ —n-not agai— _ah_!” Taka shut his eyes tightly as he was brought over the edge for _god-only-knows-how-many-times_ already that night—his legs trying to close on their own over the mafia boss’ head, toes curling against the sheets because of the intense release that was just coerced from his unwilling body, “ _Ah_...no... _no m-more_...” he softly pleaded, breaths coming in short gasps as he felt his body quiver and went falling onto the bed limply.

_I-is he still not done?_

_I don’t want this—I—I just want to go home!_

_Hiro is—Hiro is waiting for me—so please, please let me go..._

_Let me go..._

Taka opened his eyes, and with his blurry vision, he saw the man’s grinning face as he licked Taka’s cum from his fingers—slowly licking the thick, white substance from each fingertip as he stared directly on Taka’s eyes, which is widening in _revulsion._

_How—how can he—_

_D-disgusting!_

“For someone who’s not enjoying this,” – _another lick on his hand_ —, “you sure came a lot, huh?”

Taka wanted to protest— _to scream that it’s just his body’s natural reaction against his ministrations—any man would come like that if put in this situation, dammit!_ —but he couldn’t speak. His throat hurts from all the crying, sobbing, and yelling he have done earlier so he just shook his head in denial and weakly twisted his body to get away from this horrible man.

_A-are you done?!_

“Hey, hey,” he said, grabbing the petite waist below him with a firm grasp to hold him into place, “where are you going? We’re not done yet, _little kitten_ ,” he said, practically purring—which doesn’t really appeal that good with Taka. In fact, he had this sudden urge to kick the man’s annoyingly handsome face just to wipe that smug grin on his lips!

But then again, his body is too used and he actually feels like he’s already been fucked for _days_ —his body exhausted, limp, and completely vulnerable against this man’s advances.

“E-eh?” Taka shivered when he felt the man’s fingertips— _his left hand, to be precise_ —ran across his delicate sides, eliciting a few whimpers from the vocalist, up to his chest and finally to his lips. The Yakuza head was doing this sensual touching all while locking stares with Takahiro—as if he’s putting the teen under a spell just by looking with his piercing eyes.

Warm, calloused fingers traced Taka’s pink, swollen bottom lip. Almost instantly, the boy’s full lips parted on their own— _making the yakuza grin like a fool_ —before he nudged the digit into the boy’s open cavern before Taka can even protest. He then leaned down, blew at the red-tipped ears, and lowly whispered, “Suck, Takahiro.”

Taka was certainly mesmerized by those eyes that his mind took a moment to process what the shit-he had said, but the feeling of warm, moist breath against his sensitive skin and the sudden intrusion of something in his mouth snapped Taka out of his _dumb_ trance. He shoved the man’s face away using his knees— _he’s still almost bent to half, remember_ —and practically vomited the foreign finger out of his mouth.

“W-what the fuck was _that?_!” he pants, glaring at the man murderously, “D-do you know how _unsanitary_ that is?! I—I don’t know where your finger has been, you sick pervert!” he hissed.

The red-head tilted his head to the side at Taka’s flustered behaviour. He’s clearly surprised— _and probably amused_ —that Taka can still spit fire and profanities even at his dire situation.

“You don’t have to know where it _has_ been,” Taka gulped when he saw something new at the man’s eyes—like he’s some kind of animal that is about to assert his dominance or what-shit-so-ever—, “You only need to know where this _would_ be in a few moments.”

“What do you _mph_!,” Taka tried moving his head away but the man had already plunged those fingers into his mouth again—his right hand grabbing his jaws and forcing it to open and accept the intruding digits, “ _Mmh—mpgh—ngh—!”_

Fresh tears sprung at the corner of his eyes when he felt the man’s fingers moving inside his mouth— _touching and exploring_ every nook-and-cranny. Taka wanted to gag in humiliation and hopelessness—more specifically because of the look of utter satisfaction on the man’s face—like he really loves what he’s doing on Takahiro. He wanted to bite that offending finger off but he can’t because of the man’s vice-like grip on his jaws.

After what it feels like an eternity, the man pulled out his fingers, which were thoroughly coated with Taka’s saliva. He inspected it for a moment—as Taka heaved to regain his breathing—before his hand disappear down there.

**_WHAT._ **

Taka’s facial expressions morphed from surprise to disbelief to fury in a blink of an eye when he felt a finger prodding at his ass. The wet digit slides up and down along the valley between his cheeks before—to his utter horror—prodding at his hole. His eyes widened the size of the universe at that— _he couldn’t be thinking of—_

“ _Ahn?!”_ Taka yelped in pain when the finger went past the tight ring of muscles without any warning, “W-wha—,” his mouth parted open in shock as his teary eyes searched for a reasonable answer on the man’s impassive face.

_Why is he putting his finger there?!_

It hurts and feels _weird_ —making Taka’s stomach coil in a sickening manner.

“ _Ah_ —,” he gasped when the man pushed forward, breaching Taka’s _then-_ virgin hole, reaching deeper and deeper until the knuckle rests on his backside, “ _nnh_ —take it out, pull it _ah_ —h-hurts—,” he gasped as it was thrusted in and out—making the man smile down at him with a somewhat _deranged_ look on his face—sawing his insides painfully, “p-please...hu— _ah_ —rts...”

“Take it nice, Takahiro,” he cooed soothingly as he caught the pink shell of Taka’s ears and nibbled on it—his hand continuing its _ministrations_ down to his most private part—, “This is important so you won’t get hurt later, ne?”

Taka’ muddled up brain desperately tried to comprehend that, “L-later..?” he asked with a child-like confusion on his flustered face. He squirmed uncomfortably, tugging at his restraints as the man added another finger inside, making Taka’s head fall back onto the pillows as his whole body jerked at the intrusion.

_No, no—what is he doing—_

_It hurts...Take it out...It hurts!_

_I don’t like this—stop it—stop it—_

“St-stop—p-please... _please._..”

But his whines and pleas remained _unheard_ when the man continued his ministrations, starting a scissoring motion with the two digits, working to loosen up his tight, _never-have-been-touched_ orifice. He moved his lips from Taka’s ears to his cheeks—dragging them on the smooth, creamy skin—before planting an almost chaste kiss on his puffy lips. His brows scrunched up in confusion at the sudden _gentleness_ of the man’s actions.

_Why...me?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The moment those glazed eyes look up at Toru— _wide with innocence and red-rimmed because of tears_ —he can feel his patience snapped like a brittle stick. He decided that it’s about damn time to claim this alluring boy— _the lengthy foreplay over_ —even if it’s entertaining as hell.

Takahiro was _magnificent_ —utterly beautiful, fiery, delicate, completely innocent that make Toru wants to _corrupt_ him as more moans and whimpers of pain and curses came out of that silky pair of lips. He knows that the boy’s reaction was _honest_ —far from the fake, forced and totally staged response from the whores he had purchased for a night of boring affair. And his eyes— _god, those fiery eyes that won’t waver and will still have the audacity to glare at him_ —at Toru of the _mighty_ Yamashita clan—even after all the molestations his body had experienced in the past minutes.

Toru stood, kneeling between supple legs, and looked over the _adorable_ creature spread naked and _helpless_ across his bed. He had never been _gracious_ to his past lovers but there’s something with this Takahiro that make him want to _subtly_ cherish him—he wanted to pleasure the boy and prepare him but one look at this...this _totally debauched_ look of the vocalist below him made all of his remaining patience _went flying out of the window._

He hastily removed his fingers from the warm, velvety cavern and roughly flipped the abused body below him. Takahiro groaned and hissed at the rough treatment as he turned his face sideways to properly breath— _and glared up at him_ —albeit weaker this time. He let his eyes roamed on the sweaty, arched back of the vocalist, tracing the curve of his spine, and eyeing the soft, luscious mounds of his ass...

Toru licked his lips at that sight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Takahiro felt the man’s weight pressing down on his body but he felt too tired— _too spent_ —to resist and struggle. He just want this shit to be over as quickly as possible and get out of this _hell hole_ forever. He lied there, on his stomach, silently for a moment when the man’s arm snaked under his waist and pulled it up in the air.

Taka strained his head to looked across his shoulder, but aside from his naked ass, he couldn’t really get a good view nor idea on what the man is planning to do—until he felt something very _hard_ and very, _very_ large pushing against the soft skin of his backside. And it felt **_much_** larger than the fingers the Yakuza had just withdrawn.

_No, no, no—everything but that—_

His eyes flew wide open wide, looking shocked and _very scared_ , staring widely into the heavily lidded eyes, which were staring intently down at him. He shook his head in fear, wanting nothing to crawl away from this man’s looming form— _but the predatory look on his face did not waver a bit_ —he even smirked, showing no mercy and only lust.

At that moment, Takahiro knew that no amount of _begging, pleading, cursing and threatening_ was gonna keep that giant dick out of his little asshole.

_Hiro...Hiroki..._

He clenched his teeth and more tears welled up in his eyes as the man snapped his hips forward—beginning the merciless invasion of his small body. “Tight...” the man groaned behind him, “So tight...so precious...Takahiro...” he muttered, bringing his lips down on Taka’s sweaty shoulder.

_H-help—help me—_

His tiny ass stretched further that it was meant to stretch—burning in pain from the thick, hot appendage that was so relentless on pushing forward, deeper into Takahiro. It feels like someone is shoving a flaming-hot iron rod inside him—scathing and wounding him in the process. He loudly wailed at that—echoing at the silence of the room—as the yakuza buried his member to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

_Stop—_

_Just stop—_

_No more—_

_Please—_

Takahiro’s breath came in short, harsh gasps as the man stilled for a moment. His whole body is trembling in pain and he’s scared to move a muscle in fear of more pain to assault his already overwhelmed senses.

“Ha- _ah..._ ” he groaned, his fingers curling into fists at the immense pain he’s feeling, “ _Ah_...you sick...bast— _ah_!”

He shrieked when the man started to move—in and out of his battered body _without abandon_. It feels like the bastard wants to go deeper and _deeper_ than he already is, claiming Takahiro inside and out with that large girth. The loud sound of skin slapping against skin, Taka’s pleas and whimpers of pain and the man’s blissful grunts filled the quietness of the room.

“ _Hnn_ —sto— _ah—ngh_ —no—no, _ah_ —m-more—no more!” he sobbed and babbled incoherently— _overpowered, overwhelmed, over stimulated_ —as the man continued giving long hard thrusts into the depths of Takahiro’s ass. He screamed when the pain suddenly turned into a blinding pleasure that went straight from his spine to his brain. He then felt the hand that was pumping his own member, eliciting wanton sounds that Taka never knew he could produce.

“No— _no_ —,” he whimpered, his head arching back as he desperately tried to crawl away from the man and the stinging pain on his backside—but a large, firm hand grabbed his hips as he felt the man’s pelvis roughly grinding against—pounding in—his ass. The other hand was completely engulfing his sore, little cock, as the yakuza thrust deep over and over—sending Takahiro into a forced orgasm.

“No— _ah, ah—ahn_!”

White churning bliss rushed through his body like wildfire, burning in his veins and making him tremble. Waves hit him times and times again, every one of them making him gasp for air, until the surge finally subsided.

The sound of the boy’s wails and the sudden clenching of muscles around his cock filled Toru with triumph, sending him right over the edge as well. He thrust for the last time— _long and hard_ —fingers digging into the boy’s hips as he released into that heavenly-tight cavern.

Taka wanted to gag at the feeling of getting his ass flooded with thick, warm...whatever that is. He’s exhausted and wanted nothing but to sleep and probably never to wake up again. Now that the man had relieved himself, would he let Taka go?

Despite getting dizzy with the orgasm he just experienced and the overwhelming tiredness he’s feeling, Taka can still barely feel that the man had stayed inside him even if he had already softened. He’s propping himself on his elbows as he feathers gentle kisses over the back of Takahiro’s sweaty neck.

He started crying helplessly— _burying his face into the sheets_ —not wanting to show more of his _humiliation_ , more of his _weakness_ to the man who’s now running his fingers through Taka’s damp locks. Something about the _gentleness_ , following such _brutal act_ of lust and asserting dominance, confused and scared Takahiro. He sobbed and wailed for the lost of something that can _never be returned_ —blamed himself for his incredible stupidity and wishing that Hiroki would still accept him as his older brother even after being defiled by a complete stranger. He howled in pain—both physically and emotionally—and cried himself to exhaustion, and later, into a dreamless state of sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Toru silently waited for the sobs to quiet down and for the boy’s breathing to even out before he— _reluctantly_ —pulled out of the tight, hot asshole. He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers couldn’t resist on running themselves through the sweaty curly locks of the sleeping teen—trying to recover from one of the most _explosive_ orgasms he had ever had.

_When had it ever been this good?_

_Never._

It had never been that good—Toru was sure of that. He’s been with a lot of affairs, even before he rose to the top of the clan. He’d been with celebrities, daughters of business tycoons, high-end escorts across the country and yet this Moriuchi Takahiro— _this young-looking, untouched boy_ —had managed to give him one of the most intense night of his life.

_I must think of a way to bind him to me, **forever.**_

Toru shrugged and stood up to stretch his limbs—muscles rippling, making the inked markings on his skin seemingly move under the faint light of his room. He then took a last glance at the sleeping form of his _newly-found lover_ , as a small, evil smile slowly formed on his thin lips.

**_As if_ ** _he can escape me, in the first place._

That night, Yamashita Toru decided that all of Moriuchi Takahiro will be his— _body, heart and soul_ —whether the teen _likes it or not._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you, guys, think?
> 
> [IMPORTANT]  
> I still can’t believe that I wrote this piece of shit. 
> 
> This is the most horrifying, heart-wrenching, blush-invoking, ridiculous, pain in the ass chapter I’ve ever written. I don’t even think that I can continue writing this anymore because I would probably die of embarrassment and blushing if I did. So, as I gather my scattered brain and confidence, this will be the TEMPORARY (does this even exist?) ending for this instalment of the Series. I think I’ll be writing a few drafts for the next chapters first before posting the next update—IF ANYONE IS STILL INTERESTED TO READ. (like what I’ve been doing with Reason to Keep My Heart Beating—I have at least 7 chapters roughly written, just in case that I lose to writer’s block or don;t get time to write because of my office works). So until then, please bear with this stupid me.
> 
> I apologize for ruining your expectations but I think I’m still not ready to write this heavy fic at all. I apologize that this needs to (temporarily) end even without reaching the actual stalking part. I’m really, really sorry. *bows waist-deep*


	5. Hey, Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there~!
> 
> I'm posting an update now and that means that I've written 10, 000 words for this shit (which took me **3 months** , mind you)~! Fucking finally. But since I'm stupid and lazy and not really in the mood to write smutty scenes again (tho I already wrote the draft for Dreamers' Toru and Taka's first ki--spoiler, spoiler.), those 10, 000 words would be divided into parts until we reach the tentative ending (which contains explicit stuffs) again. Then the fic would be on a mini-hiatus until I've written enough material again. Don't worry, the plot is already in my head but this fic is dark and sometimes (LOL most of the times, actually) I find it hard to express those thoughts into words. Also, I'm still blushing like hell whenever I write the blunt word for a man's private part so yeah. Fuck me.
> 
>  
> 
> And so, here's the update~!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. OOR is not mine. The actions and reactions of the characters int this story is all but a product of my imagination. It's not real so please don't sue me.
> 
>  
> 
> **ALSO: holyastronauts-san in instagram made an unofficial fansite for OOR~! It's cool! You can check it out here: www.oorers.com. Please drop by (or be a member) if you can! Thank you very much!**
> 
> ALSO, the lovely collage from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19797). Thank you so much for them~!

Darkness.

Never ending darkness.

And then, there’s Hiro—his _pure, angelic_ little brother—looking at him with a look of disappointment in his eyes. Disgust.

**_What have you done, nii-chan?_ **

_W-wait—_

**_You let him touch you?_ **

_No! H-he forced me—_

**_Then why did you felt pleasure—_ **

_What?! No! I never—never—_

Hiro then pulled the sheet Taka was currently lying onto, displaying the stains he left last night when that damn red-head forced a thousand of orgasm out of him.

_—never...I—!_

**_You’re disgusting, nii-chan._ **

Hiroki shook his head solemnly before turning around, taking small, hurried steps away from Taka. And his heart breaks little by little with every step his brother makes, with every centimetres added to the distance stretching between them.

_No, no, no!_

_Don’t leave me!_

_Hiro—Hiroki!_

_I don’t want to be alone._

_I’m sorry. I **’m sorry!**_

_If I’m not just a stupid idiot.._

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry just—d-don’t leave me—_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“NO!”

Taka’s eyes shot wide opened—his breath coming in short gasps as he rapidly blink to adjust to the light of the room. He’s shaking and his hand is outstretched towards the ceiling…gripping into the air as if he’s reaching for _something_ —as if he’s reaching for _someone_.

_A dream…?_

He panted, allowing his arm to fall back onto the soft mattress with a soft thump, _it was all a dream..?_

But his aching body says _otherwise._ He tried sitting up but he was hit by this intense pain in his lower back shooting up to his spine and finally, to his brain. Memories of last night came flooding his mind—the club, the red-head yakuza, that annoying smirk, and— _and_ —

Taka gasped as he remembered how the man took advantage of his smaller form, how he was bounded and was forced into the unknown world of pain and pleasure— _how Taka cried and beg_ —pleading for him to stop and spare him; how his howls and screams went unheard and how he was _debauched_ and used like a _whore_.

His pulse quickened, pupils blown and wide as he tried to calm himself despite the overwhelming panic and fear that’s bubbling within him.

He warily looked around, listening for any signs of movement in and outside of the room but aside from his heavy breathing and the sounds of rumpled sheets, there was nothing else to be heard. _H-he’s not here?_

A small light of hope flickered in the darkness of his empty mind.

_G-good!_

_I…I need to escape..!_

He needed to run and hide from that man as soon as possible because god knows when he would lay his hands on Taka again. He looked down and realized that his hands were unbound and wrapped with an ample amount of bandages.

_What the hell—who treated them?!_

He was so sure that his wrists were bleeding and wounded by his relentless struggling last night! Now that he’s thinking about it, the silken sheets he’s been lying—yeah, he’s still somewhat _naked as the day he’s been born_ —onto were fresh and new—not having any stains on or any scent of the yakuza who went after his ass last night.

 _Wow,_ Taka’s mind bitterly supplied as he take a good look in the room, _he sure knows how to take care of his victims huh? I wonder if I’m the latest in his list…_

The room was surprisingly normal—simple but elegant in every way. The sets of furniture were shining black, the floor was hardwood and the gigantic flat screen TV is situated right in front of the bed where Taka can see his entire reflection staring mockingly at him.

_H-how did I miss this huge-ass TV?!_

A-anyways, he needs to get up and get the fuck away from this hellhole. But he needs his clothes first…

He swing his legs at the side of the bed and _“attempted_ ” to walk— _emphasis_ on the word _“attempt”_ because as soon as he took a step forward, his damn back decided that it’s time to make him fall on his face because of a surprisingly intense pain— _ouch, ouch, ouch!_

Taka went falling on all fours, cringing at the pain on his backs ide and mentally cursing that damned yakuza from head to toe again.

_Damn you!_

He cursed, non-stop, as he planted his flushed cheeks on the cold, wooden floor.

_Shit shit fucking shit!_

Taka spent a few more minutes hyperventilating on the floor like that. When the pain finally subsides into a dull ache, he reluctantly stood up and looked for his clothes—assuming that the man hasn’t shredded it last night. He can _still_ feel those hands on his skin and taste his own tears in his mouth but cleaning himself thoroughly _can wait_. He will have a long, _scalding_ hot shower once he gets home. But first, he needed to get dressed or else, everyone would call him an exhibitionist if he runs to the streets naked like this!

I _don’t wanna get jailed for running in nudes!_

To his great relief, he found his clothes neatly folded and perched over a table but there was a card and a cheque above it. He took and read its content—which just made his blood instantly boil in hatred and disgust.

_You can go now, but that doesn’t mean that you’re free._

_You’re all mine, after all._

He flipped the card to see the name of its owner and he was not disappointed. It says Yamashita Toru. Taka crumpled the card and looked at the cheque afterwards. It was signed by the fucker, revealing an amount of 500, 00 yen?!

_Eh?!_

_F-five hundred—_

Taka wanted to collapse in shock. To say that he’s overwhelmed at the amount of money indicated in the cheque was a huge, motherfucking understatement! _I mean, how can that guy just give half a million yen like it’s nothing?!_

Taka’s eyes instantly _glimmer_ at that—with this amount of money, he can buy Hiro’s medicine for months, he would no longer have to work in _multiple_ part-time jobs for weeks, and he can probably even buy a high-end guitar! That’s 500, 00 yen!

Five-hundred thousand yen in exchange of his _virginity_ —of his _dignity_.

The light from Taka’s eyes dimmed as he recalled the horror he’s been subjected to last night. Was…Is his worth equivalent to only 500, 000 yen? Was his dignity as a man— _as a human_ —worth only a measly hundred thousand yen?

If… if Taka accepts this form of… _compensation_ …then, how is he different from your stereotypical prostitutes?

His dreams went flashing back to Taka’s eyes. Hiroki would be disappointed in real life if he knows about this. Sure, they need a lot of money but Taka won’t accept anything for that damn, rotten, rapist motherfucker!

“As if he can replace my worth with this!” he scoffed, tearing the cheque in half before letting it fall on the floor. He hastily pulled his clothes on and went out of the room, just to be greeted by a lavishly decorated living area. He’s fuming, livid— _downright humiliated_ and he decided that the bastard should realize that he’s not some kind of cheap whore to be played with.

Taka evilly grinned before he lifted a chair up and smashed the entire unit into pieces.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Should we go after him, Boss?”

Toru watched in fascination as his guest— _Moriuchi Takahiro_ —went berserk in his unit. He smashes the chair to his expensive furniture, breaking vases, frames and all the pricey things he got from other countries. He even pulled out a knife from the kitchen and stabbed all of his cushions—‘the couch, the bed, the _thousand-dollar worth_ paintings on the walls.

 _It’s ugly anyway_ , he snorted as the camera shifted to the kitchen.

He broke all the dishes and cooking equipment in the kitchen and pushed the refrigerator down, spilling all of its contents on the floor.

From someone who just got _forcefully taken_ last night, this Takahiro sure has a _lot of energy_ to trash out Toru’s unit huh?

 _I just wish that he have that great stamina on bed_ , he mused as he watched Takahiro slammed the door close—leaving the unit in a gigantic mess. Not that Toru cares. It’s one of his countless units and making it as good as unusable will not really hurt him or something.

He leaned back on his swivel chair as Ryota put the laptop away and stood in front of his executive table to wait for his orders. He knows that the two are somewhat _reluctant_ to drag that pretty Moriuchi in their dark, rotten world but they can’t— _and won’t_ —really go against his orders.

I _’ll have their head if they even dared to—sworn brothers or not._

“Not for now,” he finally answered, “Let him loose for a few days, let him think that he still have his _freedom_ but made sure that he’s under-surveillance 24/7. I’ll send stuffs for him eventually,” he said, a wide grin forming on his lips as he recalls the warm body squirming beneath him last night—he can’t stop thinking about having him _again_ , _seriously_ —which is weird because Toru doesn’t come back for seconds. His former lovers and affairs usually just lasted a single night and after the bliss of sex subsides, he’s already kicking and/or dragging his partner out of his unit.

But this Takahiro…

He has something that Toru can’t explain…

Something that makes his mouth _waters_ , something that makes his blood _sizzle_ in excitement—something that makes his day a bit brighter, at the thought that, soon, very, _very_ soon…

“He’ll come straight to me…I’ll make sure of that…”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Everyone’s looking at me—_

Taka snapped his head sideways, like a paranoid man in the middle of the busy streets of Shibuya, when he felt that _someone_ —that _everyone_ is staring at him— _judging_ him from what happened to him last night.

The sun is hot, burning and shining at him rather _passionately_ as he hastened his steps towards their apartment complex. He would flinch whenever someone bumps into him, or whenever he meets the gaze of a fellow passer-by. Everyone’s moving _quickly_ , rushing to work or school or wherever else that Taka doesn’t really give a fuck anymore. There’s a bunch of girls who are talking loudly, squealing like pigs and making Taka’s ears hurt. The children are running around actively, cheering and screaming nonsense things. The cars are honking— _loudly_ , zooming in fast beams— _everything and everyone making Taka’s head hurt._

STOP.

_Don’t touch me._

_Don’t look at me!_

_Home._

He just wants to go home and clean himself. Everyone thinks that he’s _dirty_ , that he’s been _defiled_ and _disgusting_ so he needs to clean up before Hiro could see how _low_ he had fallen.

Home. _I need to get home!_

 

 

* * *

 

 

He roughly pushed the door open and went inside their unit. He allowed his form to slide down to the floor as he tries to get his breathing into a steady rhythm.

_I’m home._

_I’m safe._

_I’m home._

He just wish that Hiro had already left for school because how would he explain that he had been _raped_ —how could he tell all those horrid events to his _sweet, little_ Hiroki? How can he tell him that he’s been weak, taken by _another man_ and wasn’t able to do anything to fight it? _He would be repulsed by me, I’m sure!_ Maybe he’ll even disown Taka— _wait, is that even possible_ —

“You’re finally home, _nii-chan_!”

_God-fucking-dammit!_

Taka muttered a soft curse as he slowly looked up, to be greeted by the worried look on his little brother’s face. Hiro’s already dressed for school but he immediately drops his bag on the floor to rush towards Taka, “Are you alright? Where have you been last night?  I told you that you should’ve bought a phone, _mou_!”

“W-we’re low on cash remember?” Taka winced when his voce quivered. He stood up on his shaky legs, as he subtly pulled his sweater tightly around him—afraid that Hiro would have a look on his _dirty_ self, “I went to work last night...the club I’m telling you? I played there, you know, the usual stuff _ahahahaha_ ,” he let out a hollow laugh that sounds so _ugly_ , so _unfamiliar_ on his ears.

Hiro innocently tilted his head as he looked beyond Taka’s shoulder, “Where’s your guitar, _nii-chan_?”

_Ack!_

“Well, I smashed it onto _someone’s_ head and it’s probably broken into pieces and dumped in the garbage can right now,” is what Taka _wanted_ to say. Instead, he let out a strangled sound before looking away, “I forgot  it in the club. I’m totally drunk last night, ne?”

“You _forgot_ ,” Hiro’s voice suddenly went lower as he looked totally unconvinced at Taka’s lies, “You forgot your guitar?! How is that even possible, _nii-chan_?!”

“Damn, Hiro, don’t exert yourself like that!” taka snapped, making the teen froze on his place. He instantly felt like a horrible monster by snapping at his innocent brother like that, but he just don’t want to see Hiro _wheezing_ and turning blue again just because he’s agitated at Taka’s stupidity, “I’m sorry, ne? I’ll just take it back later tonight, ne?”

_Liar._

How can you take something that can _never_ be returned back?

“I’m sorry too, _nii-chan_ ,” Hiro said in a soft voice as he clutched Taka’s sweater making him internally recoil— _don’t touch me! You will get dirty too!_ —, “You didn’t went home last night and I’m just worried…You said that you’re gonna go to that club for my medicines and I’m feeling guilty—,”

“Shhh, shhh, _shhh_ ,” Taka hushed his little brother, frowning at the adorable pout on his lips, “It’s alright. The job went alright—,”

_Liar._

“—I got paid quite nice, ne?”

_Liar._

“But I’m really exhausted as fuck right now, so I’ll just buy your meds later, okay?”

_Liar._

Taka fought the tears that were slowly gathering in the corners of his eyes as he tried his damned best to smile at his brother. It _stings_ but Hiro should never know that he’s _weak_ , that he’s been _tainted_ , that Taka lost not just his beloved guitar last night. He doesn’t want to lie to his face but… _but…_

“Are you sure, _nii-chan_..?” the teen looked up at him with a confused expression on his face. Taka gently smiled down and nodded.

“ _Hai, hai_ , I am,” he said, stretching his aching muscles, “Go to school now, ne? You’re already running late, Hiro.”

“Eh?!” Hiro perked up at that before he snatched his bag and hugged Taka for a moment, “I’ll be leaving then, _nii-chan_. Food’s on the table! Don’t make a mess today, ne?”

“I don’t make a mess!”

“I _ttekimasu!_ ” he said before closing the door. Taka kept the tight, fake smile on his face and only when the sound of his brother’s footsteps faded outside, did it fell.

_Liar._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides under my table in fear.
> 
> Please tell me what you think of it!
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	6. Never Trust Anything to Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving on (?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey~! This is a lame-ass update and more like a filler. Well, this fic fucking sucks the energy out of me whenever I tries writing it soooo it's (more often than not) crappy. I apologize in advance.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing so please don't sue me.
> 
> Note: **holyastronauts-san in instagram made an unofficial fansite for OOR~! It's cool! And they have a TORUKA board! You can check it out here: www.oorers.com. Please drop by (or be a member) if you can! Thank you very much!**
> 
>  
> 
>  **ALSO** , the lovely collages from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19806) and [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19808). Thank you so much for them~!

Takahiro took a long, _long_ time in the shower after that. He was horrified to see the _countless_ bite marks and hickeys on his chest and shoulders, down to his thighs and waist— _damn, is he a vampire?!_ —before bursting out in pitiful tears in front of the mirror.

Dirty.

_I’m so fucking dirty!_

When he calmed down, he showered under the hot water and scrubbed every inch of skin he can reach. He scrubbed and _scrubbed_ until his skin went raw and red with irritation, until the wounds on his wrists opened and bleed again, until he is numb with pain—but even after hurting himself like that, he can still feel all those _touches_ —the warm, moist _breathing_ on his skin, those lips kissing every damn part of his unwilling body—and it disgust him even more.

Damn.

_Damn!_

He cursed and slid into the tub filled with warm water. He bit his lip— _hard_ —to prevent himself from screaming all the pains and anguish he h’s been bottling up until this moment, but even if he did so, he couldn’t prevent the tears that were relentlessly cascading on his red cheeks like waterfalls.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

After about two hours or so, Taka finally decided that it’s about time to get out of the bath. His skin is turning like dried prunes and he’s also getting dizzy from the steam and heat of the water. Sure, he’s depressed as fuck but he’s not really into suicides because _who the fuck would take care of his brother when he suddenly goes dead, huh?_

So yeah, he’s not really into killing himself. In the _bath._

He dressed up—long sleeves and sweat pants to cover up the _gazillion_ of unwelcomed hickeys on his entire body—and his wounded wrists as well—and stared at the ceiling for a long, long time because _why the fuck not?_

_I mean, WHERE THE FUCK WOULD I EVEN GET MONEY TO BUY HIRO’S MEDICINES?!_

The rent will be also be due next week and working in his shitty restaurant job wouldn’t really cover all of his bills—and without his guitar, _his oh-so precious guitar_ , taking gigs would be fucking next to impossible!

_Argh!_

He pulled his hair roughly and went to his discarded clothes to look for his pocket notebook. It has all of his friends’ name and contact number and now that he’s poor and broke as a beggar, he might as well ask for job openings from them—

He pulled the notebook from the pocket of his sweater but it wasn’t just the notebook that came out of the pocket!

_What the—_

Taka’s eyes widened when a shit ton of 10, 000 yen paper bills exploded onto the floor.

“Holy fucking _shit_!” Taka jumped away from the bills, as if it’s a stream of deadly lava as he eyed them in shock, “Where did it come from?!”

 _From your pocket, idiot, didn’t you just pulled them all out?_ His mind answered sardonically.

Well, it _certainly is not_ Taka’s money! _Heck, how did I not feel them while I was travelling home?! And more importantly, whose money is that?_

Somewhere at the back of Taka’s mind, he’s already having a faint idea on who the fuck had the _balls_ to put a load of cash in his pocket. His eyes scanned the mess of paper bills on the floor— _aha!_ —and instantly dove for an odd note among them. He took it and read, again, the perfectly-written Japanese characters.

_Seems like you really ignore the cheque._

_Oh well, this is your compensation from the club. Your voice is really good._

_Contact me if you need more._

_Toru._

_Wow_ , Taka gripped the note as he read the man’s name and contact number aloud; _we’re now in the first-name basis?! How did he even predict that I will not accept that fucking cheque in the first place?! Is he a psychic too?!_

_The fuck if I’ll actually contact him!_

Taka crumpled the note and put it in the pockets of his sweat pants. H sighed and looked down on the paper bills. He swore that he will not accept anything from the man but he really, _really_ needs money right now and besides, he earned this money fair and square by performing in that club, right?

So…

_Is it alright to use this?_

He frowned, how much is this anyway? He crouched and grabs the bills and counted them. It was just about a hundred thousand yen but it was obviously large payment for single night performance! _I only played a few songs and he already paid me this much?!_

_Godfuckingdammit!_

How rich is that man?!

He sighed and looked down the wads of paper bills in his hands. He had indeed lost more than his guitar last night—and no one, _nothing,_ can ever bring back his dignity—but if he wouldn’t use this money then he’ll probably lose Hiro too.

_I…_

_I don’t want that…_

He sighed and blinked the tears away before standing up to change his clothes. He’s been _debauched_ , yeah, but he can’t drag his brother into his mess. He’ll use this money for now and find a new job to support themselves again. Then he’ll earn enough money as this and _slap_ it onto the stupidly handsome face of that Yamashita Toru the next time he sees him!

_Ah… I bet that would feel quite nice~!_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Living a normal life after that night was a _colossal pain in the ass_ for Takahiro. It was a struggle to wake up abruptly—soaked in sweat, clammy skin and a bright blush splattered across his entire face—every morning. He couldn’t eat well because every time that he opens his mouth, there’s this _phantom feeling_ that he can still taste the man’s mouth on his, the foreign tongue _plundering_ his mouth, and the thin, _perpetually-grinning_ lips gliding against his cheeks. He would feel the bile rose on his throat at that, and if he’s not lucky— _or strong enough_ —to fight that revolting feeling creeping up into his system, he would always throw up whatever he had forced down his stomach.

Good thing that Hiro was always in school.

It was also a good thing that Taka had a shit-ton of long-sleeved clothes, sweaters and hoodies—even if they’re as old as the Shinto temples. He also went to the nearest and most inconspicious HIV testing center because he'll never be sure if the man had passed some nasty shits on him. Taka can't remember the redhead putting on a condom— _as far as his muddled and blown mind can remember—_ and Taka wasn't _that_ dumb to think that it's the first time that the yakuza had stick his dick into someone. So he went— _shaking in fear and humiliation_ —scared that someone would recognize him and ask what the fuck he is doing there to get his blood tested. _J-just to make sure._

Turns out that he's fine. _Completely fine and clean._

Taka breathes out a sigh of relief at that before dashing out of the clinic with lightning speed. He took the less crowded way back home since bumping and seeing other people looking even just at his direction still makes him paranoid as fuck. He might've been damaged beyond repair but he'll sure as hell try to live normally again...as _normal as he can_ , not for himself, not for his shattered dignity, but for Hiro.

_Always for Hiro._

So, he took another job this week to replace his usual gigs. He had spent what's left of the cash on Hiro's medicine but never even thought if using the money for their daily expenses. He worked— _hard and long_ —his body exhausted at the end of the day and was almost practically screaming him to stop and just take a rest but he _wouldn't have any of it_. Besides, the long working hours prove to be a good distraction from the nasty, depressive thoughts running on his mind whenever he's alone in the house.

But all of the pains, all of the body aches, all of the pressure he's keeping within him magically vanishes whenever Hiro would come home, a huge smile plastered on his youthful face and starts telling how his day went on his brother.

Taka would contently smile, loving the way Hiro's voice rose and fell at every story he'd been telling. Today, his younger brother had made friends. Sure they're a bit older, and Taka is so _so_ close on warning him to get more friends at his age but just seeing the excited smile on his little brother's face, he couldn’t bring himself to say it in the end.

He's glad that Hiro is living a _normal_ life now. Far from the _small, weak, and almost-blue_ Hiroki who's been desperately clinging to his clothes whenever he can't breathe or when his cheat hurts like hell.

" _Sho-chan_ has a band and he told me that I can visit and watch them play, _nii-chan_ ," Hiro said as he smiled hopefully at him. Taka put down the bowl of miso soup before his brother as he sat on the chair opposite to him, "Can I go, _nii-chan_? I promise I won't be out late..."

Taka didn't answer immediately. Both brothers know that staying up late is not really healthy for the younger boy, but Hiro doesn't usually ask things from Taka. He's actually befuddled at his brother’s more matured outlook in life, heck, he's even matured than me dammit! So when Hiroki-- _rarely_ —asked something, Taka would always, _always_ indulge him. _Besides, it's just once right?_

So he nodded, earning a triumphant grin from the boy across him.

"Don’t get too excited," he warned, not wanting Hiro's illness to come out again, "and I want him to walk you home after. Tokyo isn't really a good place for teens to roam around at night," he meaningfully said. He's speaking based from his experience. Hiroki nodded, thanked him for his consent and for the glorious yet overly simple food on their table before digging in, but Taka's mind wasn't there _anymore._

It was back into the dark alley beside the live house, confronted with the malicious grin from the redhead’s face.

He shivered at that memory.

He knows _damn well_ how dangerous it is in Tokyo at night...

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Two weeks blissfully passed and Taka is starting to get a hold of his life. He's starting to think that everything’s going fine, that he's doing just fine, only to have those hopeful thoughts shattered in an instant.

It was before noon, Hiro had already left for school hours ago and Taka just got up from bed after working a graveyard shift in a restaurant when the doorbell rang.

_Huh?_

He wondered who it is, as he padded toward the door. They don't have any expected guests—as if _someone_ would really want to visit them or something—so he thought that maybe, _something happened_ to Hiro. That made him rushing towards the door, opening it without hesitation, only to be greeted by a blindingly— _awfully familiar_ —smile.

_Y-you..._

He can feel his heart skipped a beat at the site of the dark corporate suit. Memories of that fateful night in the alley flashed right through his mind as his legs instantly took a step backwards— _in fear, in shock,_ Taka doesn't even know anymore

_They're here..._

_They know where I lives..._

_They know where we live..._

_They're here--!_

His hand gripped the metal door, and was about to pull it close when the familiar man also clutched it to prevent it from completely shutting close. Taka's eyes widened in fear as he stared up at the squinted eyes, "N-no—,"

"Oh no, you _don't_ ," the man said, clacking his tongue in disapproval, "Don't worry, we're not here to drag you unconscious again, Taka-chan~!"

_Oh shit, he knows my name!_

_How on earth did he know my name?!_

_Well, he's in yakuza remember? I'm even surprised that they took long enough before they started bothering you again,_ his bitchy mind stated.

Wait.

"T-then why are you here..?" he asked in a soft, terrified voice, his fingers gripping the door so tight that his knuckles are starting to turn white. Maybe they saw the _mess_ Taka did on their leader's unit? Or maybe they knew about Taka spending all the money on Hiro's medicines? Or maybe... _maybe..._

_You can't escape me._

Maybe their leader...that goddamned redheaded _son of a bitch_ wanted...wanted Takahiro to... _to..._

"Don't look _too_ scared, Taka-chan,"

"Don't call me Taka-chan!" he hissed but the man just beamed at him. That childish, innocent smile on his face looks _quite creepy_ , considering the fact that he's in yakuza and that he had probably killed hundreds, _if not thousands,_ of men already.

"You sure had a mouth in you, huh" he thoughtfully said before bending to pick up a rather beautifully wrapped box from the ground, "Anyways, here!" he thrusted the box towards the small gap in the floor, " _Aniki_ wants you to have this. It's chocolates, i think? The finest from Paris. He went there last week and you know what?"

Taka wanted to say that he _don’t know and that he doesn’t give a fuck_ but he's too busy balancing the box and keeping his guard on the damn door.

"He bought it for you! He _never_ get something for his...lovers so you're quite special for him, don’t you think so?"

"I _don’t_ think so," he said, not really liking the sound of the word _lover_. What happened that night wasn't because of love, _never love_ —it was pure _lust_ , pure _animalistic sex_. It was _rape_. "Please take this back and tell your _Aniki_ or boss or _whatever_ the fuck you're calling him to," Taka never knew he had the balls to actually sneer and narrow his eyes to appear as intimidating as possible, " _kindly_ back the fuck off! Keep your chocolates to yourself!" he spat, throwing the innocent box on the suit-wearing man's shirt, "get out of my place!"

"Eh, I’m not even inside your—,"

"Get the fuck out!!!" he screamed making the bubbly man jump on his place, clutching the box as he stepped backwards, but not without looking at Taka with _slightly_ murderous intent.

"Boss is right. You will really be a _handful_ ," he then examined the box on his hands before looking up at taka with wide innocent-looking eyes, "... _Nee_ , since you don’t want this, can I have the chocolates?"

...

Taka wanted to land a kick on this stupid seaweed head. Well, his hair looks like a fucking green seaweed! But his body is too busy on shaking in fear so all that he can do was to glare at the suit-wearing man as if he can kill him just by those sharp eyes, "You can shove all of it down your throat for all I care! Get out! And never come back or I'll call the _poli_ —,"

Even before Taka can finish the word _police_ , the smiling man is already lunging forward, his hand gripping the door tightly to prevent it from closing. His eyes are squinted, sharp on its corners as he smiled a bit _maniacally_ down at Taka.

_Shit, why is everyone of them looks happy then murderous in the next instant?! Ate they all bipolar or something?!_

"You wouldn't do that, if I were you, Taka-chan~" he said in a sing sang manner, as if he's not just _blatantly_ threatening Takahiro right in his home, "And even if you do that, Aniki have the police wrapped around his fingers so, never, _ever dare_ to come to them if you still want to live the way you're doing right now, ne..?"

Taka had never been so stupefied in his life since...well, the redhead yakuza had forced him into sex. This man's eyes are so _terrifying_ , a huge contrast on the bright smile plastered on his youthful face. He looks so serious, so murderous that Taka had to audibly gulped before shakily nodding.

Not in fear of his life but in fear of _Hiro's_. Now that they know, now that the damn yakuza know where they lives, that redhead can easily go here and do…unspeakable things to, not just him, but to his brother as well!

_I must protect Hiro…_

_I must do everything to protect Hiro against these people!_

So even if his entire being is screaming to just stab this man to death and forget this horrible, _horrible_ luck of having him just beyond the threshold of his unit—Taka  conceded, and just nodded like an _obedient, scared, little child._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I like writing the three (Toru, Ryota, and Tomoya) as creepy guys.  
> -Taka should've never really accepted anything from Toru because god knows how the yakuza would ask for payment or something.  
> -I think it's pretty normal to get tested if you've just been raped?? (or not?)
> 
>  
> 
> What do you think?
> 
> Thanks for reading! And oh, I've updated the chapter count from 7 to 8. And there's gonna be some sexy (?) scenes next chapters. Till then~!


	7. Like A Whisper in my Ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's my birthday tomorrow, I'll be posting this update earlier hohohoho! Just one more and this fic would go on a semi-hiatus again (I'm really sorry for that. God knows how much I want to continue writing this on a regular basis but uh, shit really, really happens)
> 
> Anyways, here's the update!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Please don't sue me.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: **holyastronauts-san in instagram made an unofficial fansite for OOR~! It's cool! And they have a TORUKA board! You can check it out here: www.oorers.com. Please drop by (or be a member) if you can! Thank you very much!**
> 
>  
> 
>  **ALSO** , the lovely collage from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_19812). Thank you so much for them~!

It _wasn’t_ the last time that they came back.

Almost _every_ day, that happy suit-wearing jerk— _Tomoya_ , as he merrily introduced himself while handing out an expensive box of wristwatch—would pop outside his door, presenting _gifts_ of various kinds to Taka. Jewelleries, accessories, pieces of lavished pastries and the highest-grade of meat—which made Taka almost drooling on the floor because that was the _first, and probably the only_ time that he saw those luxury food items right before his eyes, but he wouldn’t admit that aloud, not a fat chance—clothes, keys ( _WTF, was that for a car?!_ ), deeds of _ownership_ of some apartment unit in Roppongi Hills, and properties in Shibuya—all from the stubborn red-head yakuza.

_How rich is that guy?!_

But no matter how _tempting_ , no matter how _delicious_ , and no matter how _dazzling_ those items were, Taka didn’t— _never_ —even hesitate on throwing them back onto Tomoya’s hands. He don’t need those stuffs, heck, he doesn’t need _anything_ from that fucking pervert in the first place!

_All I want is some peace of mind!_

_And my former, normal life without these guys suddenly popping out of nowhere and pressuring me to take the gifts!_

_Was that too much to ask?!_

But no!

Even if Taka is blatantly displaying his hostility against those items and even if he’s cursing like a sailor and slamming the door shut on Tomoya’s face every damn time, the man would always, _always_ come back the next day—bearing another set of expensive gifts from his _Aniki_.

However, despite getting deeply aggravated by this seaweed-head’s presence, Taka is still somewhat thankful that the creepy man always chose the school hours to harass his doorbell because Taka doesn’t want Hiro to see this…this new type of bullying happening in front of their unit.

_Besides, I don’t want these people seeing my brother, too!_

He’s just…

Hiro’s just _too pure_ for these cold-blooded people! So he’s grateful, even if he had to face Tomoya for another half-an-hour of screaming, telling him to _kindly fuck off_ and shove whatever gift he has brought down to his boss’ throat.

Like right now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _Aniki_ wouldn’t want that, though,” he grinned before presenting a familiar black leather case, “he told me that you’ll definitely love it this time, you know?”

“You _know_ that I don’t care, right?” Taka deadpanned while hiding his body behind his door. Despite having a fucked up conversation with this equally fucked up person, Taka still don’t trust him to just cross his threshold and barge the sanctity of his house.

_I mean, they already knew where I live so I don’t need them barging into my unit too!_

That will be too much!

“Of course, of course,” he nodded, his seaweed-like hair bouncing as he did so, “But take a look at this first. It’s quite a handful to search for the exactly same one, you know?”

Exactly same _what_?

 _That…_ clearly piqued Taka’s interest. The case is definitely for a guitar…making him realize how he misses his old buddy. There’s no harm in taking a glimpse of the content of the case right? It’s just a peek so…

Small, shaking nimble fingers reached out from the doorway to grab the large case. It was the first time that Taka had initiated on holding anything that Tomoya brought for him. It obviously made Tomoya happy because a full-blown, satisfied smile spreads across the man’s face. It’s _creepy as fuck_ , especially when Taka can feel those eyes practically following every movement of his hands as he struggled on zipping the case pen. He ignored it but still kept his senses alert, scared that Tomoya would just jump on him and drag him somewhere else again. But when the case was fully open, everything on Taka’s mind went black as it revealed a perfectly white Gibson Les Paul acoustic guitar.

It looks so familiar, it looks very, _very_ like his old one that Taka can’t fight off the tears that suddenly welled up on his eyes. Suddenly, he _missed those nights_ he spent singing in clubs and live houses; suddenly he _missed those weekends_ spent playing random tunes while Hiroki sings for him—suddenly he missed his _old companion_ who witnessed every _laughter_ , every _tears_ , every _agonizing moments_ that ever happened in his life.

His guitar…

He knows that it’s weird to suddenly go bawling for his instrument but _damn it,_ music has been his _life_ for the past few years. It has been his solace, his escape from this bitter and cruel world. His guitar had stayed when everyone left him alone to fend for himself and for Hiroki.

And now…

_My guitar…_

He held the instrument close to his chest—his eyes widening in amazement and wonder at the soft, smooth texture of the wood—cradling the neck and body of the guitar as careful as he would hold a new-born baby before looking straight across him—

Tomoya grinned triumphantly before nodding, silently telling him that the instrument is _all his_.

—making Taka realize that this precious white guitar is not his—not his old one—but from _that_ asshole he loathes so much. He had told himself to never accept anything from the bastard because if he allows him to _buy_ his forgiveness, if he allows him to think that Taka would gladly accept all the _pampering_ and stuffs he’s been sending, it would make him appear like a _cheap whore_ , but _damn it_ —no matter how hard Taka would attempt to deny, he couldn’t shake off the _horrifying_ , _tragic_ truth that he wouldn’t be able to afford to buy a guitar like this anymore.

He has a brother to support; a unit to rent, bills to settle and daily expenses to see through, so buying a guitar for himself, is _obviously_ out of the question.

It would take him months, and _even a year_ just to earn enough cash for a guitar of this quality.

_And I can’t keep on living miserably without music anymore…_

He audibly gulped, _guilt and shame_ eating up on him as he worriedly stare at the smiling man—the guitar still tightly clutched against his chest—and spoke in a soft, quivering voice.

“ _Is it_...” he licked his lips in nervousness, “Is it really okay for me to…to take this?”

Tomoya blinked at that, looking dumbfounded for a moment before beaming at him, “Of course! Aniki had _scoured_ the entire Tokyo for that. He was the one who saw your guitar up close so he had to make sure that we’re buying the real thing,” he sighed and smiled dreamily while Taka is cringing upon remembering himself _banging_ his old guitar onto the boss’ head—

_Holy fuck!_

 “Man, but you really did a number on Aniki, back then, huh? His head was really bleeding!”

“Errhh,” Taka subtly inched back to his unit, not really fond of those bitter, _horrible_ memories, “You think he’s…he’s _mad_ at me?”

“ _Mad_?” Tomoya asked before guffawing in laughter—making Taka jump in surprise because _holy shit man, I thought he’s gonna just keel over, dammit!_

“Of course, _he is_! No one can shatter a guitar on Aniki’s head like that and just walk away _alive_! SO you’re really, _really_ that Aniki spared you, Taka-chan~!”

_Spared._

Taka can feel his entire body— _from the toes of his feet up to the tips of his ears_ —heating up in an alarming rate when he heard that. _Spared?_ Can you call being taken against your will, _spared?_ Can you call that night full of horror and screams of agonies and pains, _spared?_

_I don’t fucking think so._

Tomoya probably saw that Taka is now silently fuming with rage so he just sighed and smartly stepped back, “Whatever you’re thinking, I still believe that you’re _special_ for Aniki—,”

“ _Special_?” he spat, feeling his left eye twitching in irritation at that, “Is that why he’s sending those expensive bribes to me?”

“It’s called _gifts_ , Taka-chan—,”

“—do I look like I’m easily swayed by those _gifts_?!” he spat, eyes prickling with unshed tears while Tomoya is just blankly staring at him.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “but didn’t you _just_ accepted the guitar?”

“Why you—,”

“Anyways!” Tomoya jumped away when Taka reached out to claw at his stupidly bright face, laughing to his heart’s content on Taka’s raging words, “Aniki said that he’ll be seeing you _real soon_ so always be ready, ne?”

“WHAT.”

“Bye-bye, Taka-chan~!”

And then he was off. Just like that. Leaving a bewildered and completely trembling Takahiro behind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Taka blearily opened his eyes. He couldn’t remember falling asleep but it seems that he had— _wait, what time is it? I will be late for work!_

He tried to look around but it’s pitch-dark, and he can feel his back aching from the long hours of sitting—

_Wait? Did I fall asleep while sitting?_

_T-that’s impossible!_

“Oh, you’re impossible _indeed_ , Takahiro…”

Fear shot through Taka’s entire system when he heard the sound of that familiar— _frighteningly familiar—_ voice. He went rigid with fear as the memories of the night filled with horror and helplessness came rushing back on his mind when he realized the owner of that low, rough baritone.

_H-he’s here…_

His eyes flicked everywhere, searching for the man that haunts his dreams; ears straining to hear any noise, any kind sound, any sign on his location but there was none—there was _nothing_.

“You released and then you dozed off,” came the voice behind him, making a shiver ran down his spine, just behind his right ear, “How about me? Are you planning on leaving me like _this_?”

Like _what?_

Taka tried on moving up his arms to reach for that man and give this face the beating of a lifetime but he couldn’t do it because what the hell—

He looked down and realized that his wrists were tied down by the soft, leather restraints on the arm rests! What—

He started to inwardly panic, and now that his eyes are slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room, he can finally himself wearing nothing— _naked as the day he was born_ —but the leather restraints and chains around his arms and torso. He swallowed— _hard_ —before noticing that there’s something like a collar wrapped around his neck, and is connected to a chain dangling noisily over his chest.

_Whoah, whoah, whoah!_

What’s with this…this _get-up_?!

This looks like something straight out of a BDSM porn, _dammit_! He tried to fight off the restraints, sweat blooming on his temples before rolling on his flustered face, down to his jawline, the column of his neck, his shoulders…chest…abdomen and…and…

“Holy fu— _ack_!” he screeched when he felt something round, something foreign vibrating down—no, scratch that, not just _down_ but _shoved up into his ass_! That thing is vibrating like crazy, sending tremors along the walls of his most private part and making Taka shiver and quiver in pain and…

And…

Strangely, in _pleasure_.

“W-wha—,” he wheezed out, eyes squeezing tight at the delicious feeling of something moving down there as he attempted to pull his thighs close, “What’s tha— _ah_ —at?!” he gritted out to no one in particular.

“That’s your _punishment_ from leaving me unrelieved,” the man—that fucking rapist—finally appeared before him. All dressed in black, his hair was still of fiery red, eyes heavily-lidded intensely staring at Taka’s shaking form which made him swallowed down a moan that was threatening to escape past his lips—

_W-why am I even moaning like a bitch, dammit?!_

A self-satisfied smirk slowly formed on the man’s thin lips as he waved a remote control-like thing, “You’re being naughty Takahiro…”

Taka groaned at that… _lazy_ way of drawling out his name, and when the man leisurely stalked towards the chair of doom he’s currently sitting on to. He planted his hands on the top of either armrest and leaned down, his lips mere centimetres away from Taka’s quivering ones.

“Look at you…” he whispered—the masculine scent of wine and smoke and musk fanning against his face— while Taka shivered at _the burning sensation_ down there—feeling the growing heat and desperate need for release in his groin, “You seemed enjoying your punishment _though_ …perhaps,” he leaned closer, dragging his hot, rough tongue on Taka’s heavily flushed cheeks down to his jaws, leaving a wet trail before murmuring on the vividly scarlet, burning skin of his face, “…perhaps, you want some release, again huh?”

“What…n-no…” Taka mumbled, turning his face away but the redhead roughly grabbed his jaws and forced him to looks straight at those intense eyes, “I..I _don’t_ —,”

“Of course you _do,_ ” he taunted, mockery evident on his low voice, “Look at your pretty little cock…it’s already leaking again. And you’re still telling me that you don’t want to cum?”

 _Oh God_ —Taka’s eyes traitorously travelled downwards enough to see his proud member—totally _engorged_ and leaking to the tip—as if _begging_ for relief making his eyes widened in horror and shame.

_This isn’t happening!_

_No!_

_No!_

But then, the cursed _whatever_ in his ass started vibrating like _there’s no tomorrow_ , making Taka’s eyes widened. He gasped at the strange sensations, his toes curling in pleasure and desperation in seeking the bliss of release.

“N-no!” he hiccupped, shaking his head and earning an amused, fond smile on the yakuza’s face, “I don’t wa— _ah-n_ —stop it—nt to, _ahn_!”

“I can give it to you, you know?” the bastard nonchalantly said as he suddenly sank on his knees—making Taka’s jaws hang open ins surprise because _holy shit_ , never he had thought that the proud, leering and powerful head of the Japanese mafia would go down _on his knees_ in front of a _wha_ t—in front of a _naked, trembling and completely average_ man like Takahiro!

That…

That _thought_ alone makes him feel heady with unknown desire, with the power to control, the heat and want below rising and _rising_ as he looked down—beyond his tear-soaked eyelashes—on the annoyingly and dangerously handsome face of the red-head.

_D-don’t look at me like that!_

_Don’t! Don’t!_

“Tell me, Takahiro,” he purred, nuzzling his cheek on the supple skin of Taka’s inner thigh—his warm, warm breath makes the fine hairs on his thigh to stood on their tips, “ _Beg_ me and I’ll make you cum…”

_I don’t wa—_

“…with my _mouth_.”

That was the last straw.

Just the mental images of this strong, cold-blooded asshole going down on Taka’s member like a delicious piece of candy— _the way he did countless of times on their first tryst_ —was too much for his fragile little mind to handle. His head fall back, a shaky breath escaping his parted puffy lips as he moaned a long, high note, mentally cursing his body for working against him. He squeezed his eyes shut—

“N-no!!!”

—gasped and opened it, the white ceiling of his own room greeting him.

_W-what…_

He blinked his eyes, scanning the room as he breathed in and out—desperately trying to calm his raging nerves from the nightmare that just ended. His head is throbbing, his body is trembling. When he finally realized that it was, again, a vivid dream—for the _fourth night_ in a row since Tomoya dropped the news that the yakuza would be seeing him again—he groaned and fell back on the mattress.

What was that?

It _looks_ so real.

It _feels_ so real.

That was so _repulsive_ , so _ridiculous_ , and yet… _and yet_ …

With shaking hands, Taka carefully lifted up his blankets only to see his crotch tenting up like a motherfucking pole.

_What the hell?!_

_This, again?! Why am I having a boner after a nightmare?! Is that even possible?! He doesn’t even enjoyed it! And for fuck’s sake, I’m not a homo who enjoys having a dick shoved into my ass!_

Taka grunted as he started to think of disgusting things to will the hard-on away—grandmas in bikini, gyarus, worms, talking spiders—totally not realizing that the yakuza head is also now invading even the privacy of his wet dreams.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was that, Taka?!  
> Are you, by any chance, a secret masochist?! LOL
> 
> Please tell me what you think coz honestly, I died in a blushing spree while writing this.
> 
> Thank you for always reading~!


	8. You Play Me Like A Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's wrong with Taka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, there's also something wrong with me for writing this.
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time~!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is a work of fiction so calm the fuck down and don't sue me.
> 
> Note: **holyastronauts-san in instagram made an unofficial fansite for OOR~! It's cool! And they have a TORUKA board! You can check it out here: www.oorers.com. Please drop by (or be a member) if you can! Thank you very much!**  
>  Note: I just watched the subbed version of Toru's birthday shit in Norway! Kudos to the one (Momoko Yonemori-san) who made so much effort in subbing it! It's in the fansite for those who haven't watched it.
> 
>  **ALSO** , the lovely collages from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21035) and [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21037). Thank you so much for them~!

The nights had been torturous since then, as dreams, no, _nightmares_ — _they’re definitely nightmares_ —plague Taka’s sleep. The one peaceful solace of his mind is gradually being invaded by the now familiar image of that fiery-haired yakuza—his smirk, his eyes, and his deep, rough voice and calloused hands and sinful lips that were doing strange _wonders_ on Taka’s body—making him writhe on the sheets and abruptly wake up with a thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body.

_I-It’s always been like this!_

Indeed.

It has been a routine these past few days, making the circles under his eyes grew deeper and darker, as if showing the whole world how anxious, how exhausted, how sleepless he is.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _Mou_ , you really should take these,” Tomoya said, offering a tidy box filled with largest and freshest Japanese _Nashi_ Taka had ever seen in his whole life, “Aniki _wouldn’t_ like to see you looking so thin, Taka-chan!”

“Whose fault do you think this is?!” he retorted, his hands on the doorknob, but without the usual bite on it. This, _too_ , has been a daily routine because this Tomoya probably thinks that he’ll start accepting the gifts brought to him since he—albeit begrudgingly—accepted the guitar a few days ago.

_Not in your fucking dreams!_

“Ahahaha~!” the yakuza laughed merrily, “But these are the highest quality of _Nashi_ out in the market! We even ordered these from Harigi farm in Kochi!” he said as if Taka would _give in_ because of those bits of information, “And Aniki wants you to have these because he thinks that it’s _only the best_ for his loveliest, or someshit. Isn’t that _sweet_?”

 _No. It’s creepy as fuck_.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, running a finger through his locks in exasperation, “But hey, isn’t it the time for you to, I don’t know,   _kindly_ fuck off? I’m gonna be late for my job again if you keep pestering me for too long!”

The yakuza clacked his tongue in disapproval but Taka, as usual, doesn’t give a fuck anyways—before he lowered the box presented to Taka, “Fine, I’ll take these back to Aniki and maybe he’ll give me some?” A hopeful smile grew on his face before he shakes it off, “Anyway, you really should eat up more! You’re looking quite like a haggard lady these days, Taka-chan—,”

“Oh, now you’ve done it you seaweed motherfu—,”

“ _Jaa!_ ” Tomoya bounced away, holding the box of pears above his head, I’ll see you tomorrow, Taka-chan~!”

_Don’t ever come back, mou!_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He knows that there’s something _wrong_ in his head when he woke up from the same nightmare—and instead of lying down on his bed to try and regain his breathing and will his hard-on away, he swiftly get off his bed—almost stumbling down because of the sheets tangled on his legs—and dashed towards the bathroom like a sleepy zombie before swiftly locking the door.

Before he realized what he’s doing—he’s already leaning against the counter—the hem of his shirt bundled up and being held between his lips; his pants pooling down on his ankles on the floor and his hands—down and touching the rigid and hot flesh of his cock in a frantic speed.

He knows that it’s _wrong_ —he’s definitely aware that doing this just after having a nightmare about his rapist is so, so _fucked up_ but… _but—_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Wow_ ,” the man licked his lips in satisfaction as Taka obliged to relieved himself while kneeling above the man’s sculpted abdomen—his pink, twitching cock is leaking, almost _begging_ to be freed of the sadistic clutches of his captor, “You really feel it _better_ when someone’s watching you, huuh?”

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I-I’m _not…_ ” Taka mumbled against the fabric of his old shirt as his mind relived those scenes from his dreams—the strangely erotic scenes where the red-head yakuza is laying on the huge bed, his back propped on multiple layers of pillow as he stared and leered at Taka’s groin. Taka’s eyes wanders to the huge Chinese Dragon adorning the man’s otherwise pale flesh, the dark ink bleeding into skin, making it move and looks as if the dragon is actually alive to _devour_ him. That image—those smouldering gazes burned through his trembling body—making his hands moved even more desperate to seek for his release, “ _’m_ not— _ah…_ ”

_I can’t believe that I’m doing this!_

His mind—his conscious, sane mind is wreaking _havoc_ , telling him to _stop_ , that this isn’t the right thing to do—that it’s fucking _screwed up_ to jerk off to that bastard—to seek release through those filthy images flooding into his brain—but all of his blood is already rushing downwards, south straight to his aching cock—rendering him unable to think rationally anymore.

It’s dirty— _ahh_ —so, so _filthy_!

But even so, his hand still gripped the shaft tighter, his fingers gliding from the base to the tip as his legs threatened to close themselves together in pleasure.

How…

How can this feel so, _so_ good?!

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Good?”

Taka’s eyes snapped open, his tears clinging to the thick lashes like fresh dews in the morning—making it harder to see through his blurry vision. His gaze went down on the face of the yakuza—his trademark smile plastered on those thin lips that Taka hated with burning passion—as he grabbed his hips, fingers digging on the soft globes of his ass.

Taka moaned at the contact—even more when the man kneaded it and roughly pull him forward—

_O-oh no! D-don’t do that, agai—_

—to encase his hard, throbbing length into that warm, moist mouth— _licking and sucking_ with a hint of teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, making Taka shudder in fear and disgust and—above all— _gods,_ pleasure. His hands found their way to grip those heavily tattooed shoulders—not caring if his blunt nails are already leaving marks and scratches against the pale skin—as he arched forward, muffling his moans and grunts on the deep maroon tresses, “N-no more— _stop_ , or I’ll… _I’ll…_ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Taka doubled over, his hand now gripping his flesh tightly—his toes curl in anticipation as he huffed out pants and hushed moans—watching as globs of his sweat dropped on the cold bathroom floor.

M-more…

_J-just a little bit more…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Being the sadistic bastard he is, the yakuza actually _did_ stopped—letting go of Taka’s aching hardness with a loud, lewd squelching _pop_ —much to his annoyance. A loud, shameless whimper was wrought out of his puffy lips as he glanced down to catch the teasing smirk on the yakuza’s saliva and cum-coated lips.

_W-wha—_

_Just a little more and I—_

“Then, _come_ ,” Taka groaned as his body involuntary shook—just the mere sound of that low, rough voiced, added to the intense, fierce eyes lustfully and hungrily looking up at him is enough to violently send him hurling towards the edge—, “Come for me, _Takahiro…_ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _Ahn_!”

Taka bit his lip as spurts of cum escaped from his cock, leaking to the hand that was rubbing it with intense speed earlier. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt the warm buzzing feeling flowing through his veins, his blood thrumming with _bliss and satisfaction_ as white spots clouded his vision.

His breath comes as puff of moist, warm air as he tries to rebuild his brain that was literally _blown away_ by his release.

It was good. _So good._

How something so _wrong_ , something so _filthy_ can feel so fucking _perfect_?

Seconds ticked by and after the post-orgasmic bliss subsides—after the intoxicating high of having his pent-up frustration being released—Taka’s eyes roamed on the _mess_ he made—webs of semen drips down from his hand, rolling onto his bare thighs, his ruined clothes and the flustered, _wanton_ look on his face—he’s suddenly attacked by this crippling _guilt_ and _fear_ and—above all— _disgust_ to his actions.

Disgust to _himself._

It was good, _alright_ , but it’s still repulsive and Taka had this urge to gag and threw up all the food he had for dinner with the sheer repulsion he’s feeling at the pit of his stomach.

_Unbelievable._

_Unforgivable._

But he didn’t throw up—he couldn’t—since he’s already too weak. He allowed himself to collapse on his wobbly knees, and curled up— _crying_ and _sobbing_ quietly as his entire body shook and burn in shame and fear—alone and _broken,_ on that cold, _cold_ bathroom floor.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Are you alright,  _Nii-chan_?”

Taka hid the flinch that went through his body when Hiro suddenly spoke behind him. He’s currently making breakfast for the both of them, and Hiro’s _bento_ , like the dutiful brother he is. He had woken up a bit earlier— _lie_ , that’s a lie because he wasn’t able to get even a wink last night because of those stupid, perverted dreams—and decided that he might as well be productive for the day.

“Of course I am,” he smiled and turned towards his brother, lowering the flame on the stove. He had done this before, grinning as if everything’s alright when he’s _slowly dying_ inside.

 _I need to do this_ , he justified, _to protect Hiro._

A good brother must never make his _ototou_ worry about him.

And Taka, no matter what hell had happened to him, believes that he’s being a good brother to Hiroki, _even if he’s lying through his teeth._

“I just woke up earlier than usual so I look like shit, but,” his smile softens as he stared at the cute, rumpled features of his younger brother. Hiro looks so _adorable and soft_ when he just woke up, his hair strewn everywhere and his eyes almost disappearing behind those thick lashes as he squints his way towards Taka for a hug, “Ah. You know you’re too big for morning hugs, you know?” he said, but still welcome the familiar warmth of his baby brother.

Hiro snuggles onto his chest, like he always did since he was still a child or whenever he’s sad, or whenever he thinks that Taka is carrying a burden.

_I think I know what’s the reason for it now…_

“ _Mmmm_ ,” he mumbled against Taka’s chest, and for a split second, he feared that his brother would smell the _stench_ of the filthy act he just did in the darkest hours of the night; but when Hiro did nothing, nor ask anything in the next few seconds, Taka let himself breathe out a sigh of relief, “But I missed you, _nii-chan_ …you’re always busy with your jobs so…” he pouted before looking up at him, his chin resting on Taka’s chest with his hands wrapped around the older’s waist, “I know that it’s for us that you’re spending more time in work but…but you should take it easy sometimes, _nee, nii-chan_?”

Taka’s smile didn’t falter at the worried tone his brother had used. Instead, he threaded his fingers through the light locks of Hiroki’s hair, the way he knew his little brother like so much.

“You look awful these days _nii-chan_ , you’re not…” his brows knitted in worry, “you’re not smiling a lot anymore…not playing your guitar anymore…are you sure, you’re okay?”

“Of course I’m not” is what Taka would love to say but he stopped himself, and instead, let out a _deceitful_ , fake smile spread across his lips as he wonder when he started smiling like that— _smiling like it’s normal to lie to his beloved brother’s face_ —, “I am. Don’t worry, okay? I’m fine… _I’m fine_ ,” he mumbled to Hiro, but even to his own ears, it sounded so _hollow_ and _forced_ , “Anyway,” he said, subtly pushing the younger away, “I’ll be late tonight. I have this gig again so you don’t have to wait for me, ne? Just go to sleep, okay?”

Hiroki’s brows knitted in confusion, “Are you gonna stay out until morning again, _nii-chan_?”

Taka winced at that as he realized that the last time he spent his time out until sunrise was when that yakuza laid his dirty hands on him.

“No, _no_ ,” he vehemently shook his head, “This is in a different club.”

He made sure of that. He will be out, sing at least five songs, get his pay check then he will go straight home. He made sure that this club is far from the first one _, smaller_ , and doesn’t have elite customers like a certain redhead yakuza to minimize the chances that they will meet again. He made sure of that.

_I made sure of that…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_So…_

So he really _should’ve_ paid more attention while he was still in the restaurant where he works as a waiter. After his shift, he would just change his clothes and grab his stuffs before going to the club where he’ll perform tonight. There weren’t that much of customers tonight, Taka wasn’t even that exhausted, so he really _should’ve_ paid more attention to his surroundings.

He _should’ve_ noticed when an extremely well-dressed man entered the restaurant—wearing a familiar black suit, his dip-dyed blonde hair tied back in a ponytail—and looked for a vacant table near the corners. He _should’ve_ noticed when the man went back to the outside after casting a long, side-glance at Taka—

Taka, who’s busy ignoring _everything and everyone_. Just a few more minutes and his shift will be over. He was too focused on staring on the clock wall, counting the seconds until the clock strikes one—signalling that he should be leaving. But then, his superior called for him inside the kitchen for another job—which he begrudgingly accepted—making him unable to see the _three suit-cladded men_ entering the restaurant and moving gracefully towards the vacated table.

He _should’ve_ glanced back before entering the kitchen—because if he _did,_ he _could’ve_ seen those bright maroon hair; he _could’ve_ seen that leering, loop-sided smirk; he _could’ve_ met those heavily-lidded eyes— _burning with longing and desire and obsession_ —following his every step.

 

 

 

He really, _really_ _should’ve_ paid more attention.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I swear Taka has a massive brother complex.
> 
> LOLOLOLOLOL What do you think? (aside from murdering me for this shitty work)
> 
> Thanks for hanging out until this chapter! Until next time!


	9. Nowhere For Me To Run and Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo-ho~  
> I'm back with a two-chapter update. The second one will be posted next week tho. 
> 
> Also, I totally forgot how to write Toru. Like he's just an extra in the previous chapters remember? So he might be so OOC today. I apologize for that and the grammar errors and every other mistake that you will encounter in this chapter.
> 
> Anyways, someone introduced me to the world of BDSM last night. NO, I DIDN'T DO IT, THE PERSON JUST ANSWERED MY CURIOSITY AND DUMB QUESTIONS so now, I finally have the gist of it. At the expense of my pure, virgin eyes. LOL. I almost bleed to death because of blushing. But I don't know if we should see it in this fic, or in the other fic, or into something entirely new? 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction. The characters won't do the mentioned actions in the story. I do not own OOR. Please don't sue me.
> 
>  
> 
>  **ALSO** , the lovely collages from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21039) and [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21042). Thank you so much for them~!

"They'll be the last one, ne, Moriuchi-kun?"

Taka made ridiculous faces behind his clipboard as the manager of the restaurant tell him about his last customer for the night. He was supposed to get off his shift and on his _merry_ way towards the club he'll be performing tonight, but this _asshole_ suddenly decided for him to take the orders of a certain table. Well, it's not like he could really evade it. Every other staff were busy in the kitchen so he's really the available one at the moment, but then again, his shift is already over about what—

He glanced at the wall clock just about the service door, noticing that it's already three minutes past one. Three fucking minutes after his shift!

_I better get paid for this!_

"They look _rich_ so give your best customer service, okay? I'll even escort you to the table to make sure that you won't trip, you clumsy little boy—"

Taka's cheeks heated up at that unnecessary comment, "I'm not fucking clumsy!"

 _Sure,_ he had broken a few dishes when he was just _starting_ here but that'd an old tale that should never be remembered anymore! _Damn this bastard for even bringing that up!_

The manager led him out of the kitchen—smiling like the capitalist bastard he is—while Taka is still glaring at the greasy floor, mumbling about the unfairness and douchebaggery of their manager.

"Sure, sure," the man agreed with a totally condescending tone, making Taka wants to punch him on his stupid face. But even before he can turn and actually raise his fist, they already made it near the table, "And don't swear in front of the customer, ne?"

_Yeah, yeah, I still now some skills on dealing with customers, mou!_

_No need to treat me like a dumb kid!_

Taka scoffed before he looked up from his shoes—

"Ah! The _Nashi_ were the best!" came the familiar high-pitched voice that made Taka's blood instantly went _cold,_ "Too bad I ate all of it~!"

"Eh! Why do you even ate it, Tomo-kun?! It's for Mori-chan, right?" came the unfamiliar voice. Taka's eyes widened, the man wasn't that... _familiar_ but he can still remember him back in that dark alley—Tomoya's friend whom the man called for help—he's now there, sitting beside the seaweed head, before he turned towards the man sitting across him, "Aniki bought it for Mori-chan, right, Aniki?"

—only to meet those dark, smoldering orbs of their _leader._

Wide, almond-shaped eyes met half-lidded orbs.

_N-no!_

Taka almost doubled over as fear shook his entire core with the mere sight of those intense, heavily-lidded eyes. He tried swallowing the painful lump forming in his throat as his feet traitorously brought him over the table, _closer t_ o the people he never wanted to meet for, like, _ever._

_I-it can't be—_

The manager is saying something but he couldn't hear any word of it. It was drowned by the ringing in his ears, drowned by the loud pounding of his chest as they finally stopped in front of the table. Every occupant snapped their gazes towards them as the manager introduced him to everyone—as if it's really _needed,_ look _, they've even started giving me weird nicknames_ —but Taka couldn't care less.

So many things plagued his mind in an instant, sending it into a frantic over-drive.

What are they doing _here_?!

What is _he_ doing here?!

Shit…shit…

Taka needs to calm down. He must not _waver_ , must not _cower_ —even if his entire frame is _shaking_ , even if his hands were starting to get _clammy,_ even if his heart is about to _leap out_ of his chest.

Taka tried breathing in and out. Allowing the much needed oxygen to flow through his system.

Despite the numbing fear that crawled into his system that made him half-paralyzed for a moment, Taka's eyes still wandered on the man sitting alone on the other side of the table. He's still wearing the black suit—the buttons popped open revealing a crisp white undershirt—while his tie is somewhat loosened in a carefree manner. The sleeves of the coat were rolled until his elbows, showing the dark, black tattoo of the bat on his left wrist and a peek of tribal triangle and words forming an arrow on both of the insides of his elbow. His wide eyes roamed up— _gah, why am I even checking this bastard out_ —until he met those leering gaze and the smirk ever present on those thon lips—

_Exactly just like in my dreams!_

—making Taka realized that the man in his nightmares couldn’t do this yakuza any _justice._ He looks so, _so much_ more intense, more intimidating, and more...more... _handsome_ in real life!

...

...

What the fuck was that?!

Oh. My. God. Takahiro. _You. Really. Have. A. **Problem**. In. Your. Damn. Head!_

...

Anyways, let's focus on the _second_ one. He looks so intimidating even if he's sporting a kind of lazy, laid-back aura, Taka can still sense some odd...feeling of _danger_ just by looking at this man. Like he could smile and laugh at your jokes one moment, then put a _bullet_ in your head the next. And oh, _did Taka knows_ how extremely dangerous this man is.

_He is…_

He could drag you to the _lowest pit_ of hell, make you burn and _burn_ , and feel like you're the _dirtiest_ person on earth. He could sink those teeth on your skin, drink all your blood and leave you almost dying...like a walking corpse under the _pretense_ of living. And then he could haunt your dreams, your thoughts, your fucking _body_ until you can't identify your feelings anymore—if it was fear or _anticipation_ , if it was pain or pleasure.

Taka knows _all of that._

He had experienced it _first-handed_ before, after all.

And now...

_And now..._

He gulped, as the manager patted him on his back—those heavily-lidded eyes watching the motion closely, like a hawk gawking on its prey—and told him to take their orders.

"He would just take your orders, sirs," the manager said joyfully, not able to read the heavy, _deadly_ atmosphere hovering over the table, "He's past on his shift so a different one would bring your orders out later."

He's not aware that every words he say is like pounding a _nail_ to Taka's coffin.

" _Oh_?"

Taka's knees wobbled like a pathetic stick when the red-head spoke for the first time. He's holding an unlit cigarette stick between his fingers as he regarded Taka with a loop-sided smirk.

"So he's going home for the night?" the deep baritone made its way into Taka's ears, reminding him of that cursed night and the _nightmares_ that it brought. That same deep voice telling Taka how _good_ he is, asking Taka to just _give in_ as those wet, moist lips encased his own _co_ —,

He flushed at the indecent thoughts flooding his mind. _Of all the times they chose to resurface now!_ It's not right!

"That's a waste," he turned towards his minions, and _god forbid_ , Taka didn't missed as he look firmly at the two, like he's silently giving them _orders_ —

Uh- _oh._

_No, no, this isn't good!_

_I must get the fuck out of here, right now!_

—making the warning signals in Taka's brain ring and wail like a fucking sirens—because he knows that l _ook_. He knows that something _bad_ , something _terrible_ would happen if he won't make himself scarce as soon as possible.

"But it's fine," the yakuza continued, glancing at Taka again, making him stand like a rigid pole on his spot, "He can take our orders."

"I—," he started, but the words got stuck in his mouth. The next thing he knew was the manager ruffling his hair, making him flinch for a moment at the unwanted contact and the severity of those gazes, before he turned and left for the kitchen.

Taka inwardly panicked.

No, no, no!

_Don't leave me here!_

They- _they're—_

_They'll gonna kill me, you uncaring bast—_

The sound of the kitchen door closing came to Taka like a fucking wrecking ball. _Well, this is it._ He's doomed to _die_ now. The yakuza had come for him, probably for smashing his entire unit, and Taka would _surely_ die.

_But that doesn’t mean that I won't fucking haunt you to death you fucking shit!_

He glared at the closed door with all his might.

_Thank you for bringing me to my inevitable death, asshole!_

"Ne, ne, Taka-chan~!"

He was pulled out of his stupor by Tomoya's energetic voice. He gulped before slowly turning his attention towards the occupants of the table, who, _for some weird and probably dark reasons_ , were also focusing their entire attention towards Takahiro himself.

"Hi, Taka-chan~!" Tomoya beamed when Taka's flickering gaze landed on him, "Long time no see!"

"We've just met _yesterday_ , you dumb seaweed!" he hissed under his breath as he brought up his clipboard with shaking hands, aware of the pair of obsidian orbs following his every movement, "And don't play with our chairs like that! You're gonna break it!"

"But it's the only fun thing in this resto—!" he began complaining but then, the yakuza head leaned forward, staring at the hyperactive Tomoya reprimandingly.

"Behave, Tomoya."

"Hai, Aniki..."

It was _funny_ how Tomoya instantly cowered and obeyed under his boss' words like an obedient little puppy. If Taka wasn't just… _busy_ fearing for his life, he could've cackled in _delight_ at the pout on the energetic man's face.

"Seaweed head?" the other yakuza asked, looking between Taka and his...friend, "You're already giving each other a pet name? That's _unfair!_ "

"It's not a pet name!" he said through clenched teeth, ignoring how the other man pouted and mumbled about Mori-chan playing favorites. _The fuck is Mori-chan, even?!_

"Anyway, why don't you just state your orders now, so I can fucking leave—,"

"Language, _kitten_ ," Taka threw a sharp glare when the man spoke, making Tomoya and his friend whistled _lowly_ in awe because _no one_ had probably dared to glare at their scary boss like that. But the man at the end of his scathing looks didn't even budge, hell, he didn't even blink! What the fuck?! He just stared at Taka like he's expecting some more...

_More of what?_

...before he continued saying whatever the fuck he's planning to say, which is unfortunately about Taka's _horrible_ customer service skills.

"Is that how you're supposed to talk to your  _highly_ valued customers?" he said, every word coming out from that sinful lips were grating loudly on Taka's ears, as he feel his blood sizzle with all the feelings he desperately tried to bury and forget these past few weeks.

Anger.

Hurt.

Fear.

Emptiness.

Loathing.

_Never-ending hatred._

"I'm surprised that they still haven’t fired you—,"

_Ow, shut the fuck up! As if you know anything about me, you fucking rapist!_

Before Taka can think of his next actions, he's already leaning forward. His free hand grabbed and yanked the black tie loosely hanging on the man's collar so that he can look at that face—the face that made his days a _living hell,_ the face that made his nights burning with _unwanted frustration and guilt_ and pain, the face he hates with _burning passion_ —his anger is so much potent that he didn't even flinched when Tomoya and the other man low-key leaned forward, their hands shoved into their coats, revealing the sliver of gleaming guns underneath.

"I'm surprised that you even showed your _face_ in here," he spat those words lowly, glaring daggers at the man who didn't even bat an eye against him. His palm was up, towards his two subordinates, probably to stop them from just _blasting_ Taka's brain out of his skull, " _How. Dare. You_. How dare you waltz in after what you did—after what you did to me you _fucking bast—,"_

" _Shhh_ , be careful with your words, Takahiro..." he said as he casually raises a hand to grab his jaw. Taka woke up from his anger-induced streak at the sudden contact, his skin tingling where the man's fingers touched. He tried to get away but the yakuza roughly held his jaws in place before he leaned even forward until he's speaking just next to Taka's sensitive ear.

"You don't want to gather more attention, do you, _kitten_?" Taka shivered at the rough, low voice, and the warm, moist breath on his lobe, "You know I can easily kill everyone in here, even though it will be a pain to clean them up? No one will give a fuck because it's _me_ , but _how about you, Takahiro_?"

Are you...

_Are you blackmailing me?!_

Taka's eyes frantically wandered towards the few customers in the restaurant—talking and eating without a care in the world—oblivious to the fact that there's a dangerous man sitting with them, ready to commit _mass murder_ just to _what?_ Threaten Takahiro?

_Are you fucking kidding me?!_

"Would you like them all dead...or you'll act like a _civilized_ person, hmmm, Takahiro?"

_Don't call me like that!_

_Don't say my name like that!_

_You don't deserve it, you—you!_

Taka’s eyes darted on the exposed guns beneath their coats.

He would just have to take their orders, right? He _could_ do that. Without even speaking. He could do that. _Yes_. Then he would rush towards the kitchen and go home. _Fuck this job_. Fuck his gig later. He needs to go home where he's _safe._ Where he couldn’t follow him. Where Hiro is, waiting for him—

He froze at that thought.

Is it really still safe there?

_Tomoya knows where you lives._

They can barge into your house, take what they want. Take you _against your will_ again. And what's worse is that Hiro is _there._..cute, innocent little Hiroki _would be there..._

No, no, _not that!_

It's not... _nowhere is safe anymore..._

As long as he's here, as long as this yakuza is breathing and living, Takahiro _won’t never be safe anymore._

His pulse even quickened at that painful, _crushing_ realization. He gulped, head nodding a bit, hoping that the man would now let go of him.

But no, he's a sadistic bastard _remember?_ Taka can feel him smirking against his ears, the fine hairs standing up to their tips at the warm, unwanted contact.

"Tell me. I can't tell what you're saying, kitten," he slurred, making taka wanted to vomit or just curl up with the heat spreading across his body, "Tell me, Takahiro...you'll behave, right? _Nee_?"

He audibly gulped before he forced his dry mouth to pen and lisp some words.

"H-hai," the yakuza leaned away, staring at Taka's flustered form as he uttered the most mortifying words he had ever spoken, "I...I will _behave._.."

_Oh gods that was so—_

"Good boy," the man smiled in satisfaction before he sunk back on his seat, allowing Taka to breathe again without a _killer_ hovering above him. Tomoya and the other guy also calmed down, sitting properly and putting up wide, bright smiles for Taka and their boss, "Let's order then."

Wha—

Taka roughly exhaled at the sudden shift in atmosphere. It was so _odd_ , so nerve wracking that he could've _pissed_ on his pants if he's not just high with adrenaline earlier. But now that the high is slowly ebbing away, he can feel his muscles sagging with exhaustion. _Damn, dealing with these assholes is really taxing, huh?_

It's like walking in a forest filled with _land mines_. One wrong step would lead him to death through explosion or something. One wrong word and these men could easily kill anyone— _everyone_ —and Taka is being held responsible for all of that.

_Fuck this._

Fuck this life very _very_ much!

"I don't know what to choose," Tomoya said as he scanned the menu, "How about you, Ryota-kun?"

Taka's brow arched at that. _So, the other man is called Ryota, huh?_

"I think I will have ramen," he said before smiling childishly up at Taka, "do you have ramen here, Mori-chan?"

"No," he deadpanned before leaning down again, "And please don't call me Mori-chan!"

"Ah, right, that was so rude of me, calling you Mori-chan even if I haven't introduced myself," God, Taka was so close on strangling this fool for missing the entire point of his anger, "I'm Kohama Ryota!"

"Do you really give out hour full names that _easily_?" he answered instead, making Ryota pout and focus on the menu again, "You're...you're yakuza, right?"

"We are!" the two said simultaneously.

"It's not like the police could arrest us just by knowing our names, anyway," Taka glared at the redhead because no one is asking his opinion so he should’ve just stayed quiet the entire time, "especially after knowing our _names_."

" _Right,_ " he sardonically nodded, a bland smile plastered on his frowning lips, "You have the entire police force wrapped around your fingers in the first place.”

The redhead arched a brow at his rather flippant tone, “You do _know_ that I’m the head of the most powerful clan in Kantou, right?”

Taka stared down at him for a moment, wondering how egoistic this bastard could get, “…And you do know that I _don’t_ _give a shi_ t, right? So, with all due respect, can you please just order?"

The redhead tapped his stick onto the table before lazily looking up at him, "I'm not hungry."

Oh.

_Okay._

"Then why the fuck ate you here at all?!" he hissed, "In fact, why are you even here of all places? This is obviously a c _heap_ resto and the food here is crappy and average at most so why bother dirtying your _pristine suits_ in this place?!"

Tomoya answered for his boss.

"Isn't it obvious, Taka-chan? Aniki wants to meet you!"

Oh.

_Of course._

That's...fan- _fucking-_ tastic.

A forced, tight smile made its way on his lips as he blankly stared at the smiling leader. He looks so _handsome_ that he's almost standing out in this crowd. Taka wonders _how would it feel_ if he could land a punch on that annoyingly handsome face. No, _seriousl_ y. It's not like he don't fear for his life anymore. It's just that, this time, the annoyance is _clouding_ his vision _, overriding_ the loathing and fear he feels for this man.

_Just one punch._

"Right," the redhead nodded, "Besides, aren't you honored that I graced your, _as you have eloquently put it earlier_ , crappy restaurant with my presence? It's kinda nice, don't you think so?"

"I don't think so."

"Ooooouch~!"

"That _burn_ s!"

Taka and the yakuza _simultaneously_ glared at the two before they can even started giggling. Ryota and Tomoya instantly went stiff, back straightened and face pulled into the most horrendous, poker face they can muster.

"Sorry, Boss."

"Sorry, Aniki."

"Enough," the man said before clearing his throat, "I want to talk to you after your shift. It's been long and I really _missed_ you,"

Taka almost gagged at that. How can he say those cheesy words with a damn straight face?! And in public of all places?! N-not that Taka would allow him to say that _in other place_ but you get the point!

Why would he even miss Taka?!

_Because he needs a warm body to fuck tonight?!_

"Don't you missed me too?"

"No," he bluntly said again, pushing those vivid nightmares down into his mind. He wouldn’t miss this asshole, _not even for a day_ , because he's already been invading even his sleep these past few weeks! He then turned towards the two, who were now snickering at their Boss' sour face, "Stop laughing like idiots. I'll take your order..." and then he remembered that he agreed to behave like a _proper_ waiter so he reluctantly added, "... _sirs_."

"Everything on your bestseller's list!" Tomoya beamed. Taka didn’t write it down. He didn't even pretend to do so, "Buy you can take Ryota-kun's later—,"

"Eh?!"

"—coz Aniki's still not some talking to you, Taka-chan~!" he then smiled the creepy smile he usually uses when he's threatening Taka early in the morning in the corridor of their apartment building.

"It’s fine, Tomoya," the man said before cradling his perfectly chiseled— _really, Taka? What's wrong with your adjectives, mou!_ —jaws with his palm, "We'll talk afterwards anyway."

He almost _, almost_ hit the man with his clipboard.

"And _who_ told you that I would want to talk with you?" he gritted out, every fiber of his being screaming to just...kick this man _on his balls_ and run for his life or something. This is just too much!

"You're mistaken if you think that I'm asking you for your permission, Takahiro," he blandly said as he casted him a long, side glance, "It's an order. You're gonna talk to me, whether you like it or not _or else.._." he shrugged, leaving the air heavy and tense with the unsaid threat.

_Someone's gonna die of you don't obey._

_Would you like that?_

Of course no. Fucking big no but...but how can he say that, how he can fight these men who have better built than him, who have loaded guns under their coats, who have a web of connections with the police and the underground world. Taka might be dumb but he's not _suicidal_. And the thoughts that some innocent lives would be endangered because of him makes him sick to the pit of his stomach.

_I can't..._

Are you willing to go that far just for the welfare of other people whom you not _even know?_ How about the times when you were almost dying, but no one gives a shit?

Isn't that a bit _hilarious and ironic?_

_I can't..._

Taka's eyes steeled with resolve as his shoulders slumped in defeat, "Fine," was all that he said before he leaves for the kitchen, not throwing any last glance at the three nor waiting for Ryota's orders anymore.

He's _not_ supposed to be here.

"Everything on the bestsellers!" he loudly announces to the kitchen staffs as he roughly pulled his apron off his waist and trudged towards the locker room.

"I hope they tip big," was all the manager said when he walked passed him.

"I hope he kills _all of you_ ," Taka mumbled under his breath, "I'm outta here," before grabbing his guitar case and his backpack. He knows that he's being selfish, that there will be dire consequences of his actions but _damn._

Everything he do, everything he say will just lead to his ultimate _demise,_ one way or another! It's not like anyone cares about him so why would Taka do the same?! They could all rot to hell and he won't give a flying fuck, not when his _life and dignity_ is on the line!

That fucking yakuza can go to hell and Taka would even throw an extravagant party to send him off!

_Ugh! This is so frustrating!_

He wiped the tears that were forming on his eyes as he fling the back door open. He cautiously look around before stepping into the darkness. The other exit of the alley was a dead end, and aside from a _slick black car_ parked at the other end, Taka didn't see anything suspicious at all. So he sighed in relief as he almost jogged towards the well-lit sidewalk. It's just a bit of distance but it seems like it took him an eternity before he reached the end—

_Thank god!_

—at the same time that the backseat door of the car flung open, revealing an obviously displeased redhead yakuza. His lips were pulled down in an unsatisfied frown and those eyes were cold _and hard as fucking steel_ when they landed on Takahiro's form.

_How the fu—_

"Get in, Takahiro," was the simple command.

Taka's mind is screaming for him to shake it off, _run and run_ but the pissed off look on the redhead's face makes his knees wobble as he stared back with open mouthed shock. Then Taka could hear the click of the gun cocked at his side— _damn, I lowered my defenses again_ —by none other than Ryota, who's smiling a _bit_ too widely down at him.

"Get in, Mori-chan. Aniki won't mind if you're _wounded and all bloody_ if he can take you with him like that..." he said, making Taka shook even more.

These people are _crazy!_

He grunted when Ryota gently pushed him towards the waiting car, towards his eminent _doom_ , towards the man he was planning to _escape from_. His eyes widened and darted everywhere to silently asked for help, for aid—for _anything really_ —but then, he was already pushed inside, landing face first on the yakuza's lap.

_Oh god, god—_

He can feel those arms pulling his guitar case and back pack away from him before they grip his shoulders to make him look up at that frighteningly familiar face. The yakuza stared at him with a _crazed look_ on his face as the door was slammed shut, and Taka felt the car smoothly moving away from the curb.

"Ah, the usual threats are not working on you anymore, huh?" the man drawled, leaning so close that Taka can practically _taste_ the liquor and scent of smoke on his breath. The man then gripped his face and harshly pulled it towards the heavily tinted glass of the car, making him look at something, "We don't want that, don't we? Looks like we have to _remedy_ that, nee, Takahiro?"

Taka's eyes widened the size of the universe as a _deranged_ grin break across the man's face. _Gone_ was the composed man in the restaurant earlier. _Gone_ was the cool, laid-back aura surrounding him earlier. _Gone_ was the patient, arrogant smirk on his face earlier.

The man in front of him is...is...

Crazy.

Obsessed.

_Manic._

And just as those words left those thin lips, a bright, loud explosion resounded outside. There were cars honking everywhere, the sound of people screaming made its way even through the sealed doors of the car. Taka scrambled to get up from his embarrassing position, not minding if he's now unconsciously straddling the man's strong upper legs as he stared—wide-eyed—at the windows on the rear of the car.

 _He knows_ that _place._

 _He knows where_ the flames and smoke and shards and debris and fire were coming from.

 _He knows_ where those screams and burning people where coming from.

It's...

_It's..._

His mind went blank, unable to process what he just witnessed. Deaths, injuries. Damage to properties. He caused all of that. Just because this man wanted to _talk_ to him.

Taka felt like laughing.

And crying because what the actual fuck?! Seriously?! _Oh my god, I think I want to be in that restaurant too! J-just fucking kill me already!_

"Maybe you _should've_ listened to me, Takahiro..." the man said, running his fingers over Taka's back—the long digits trailing every bumps of his spine before settling on the small of his back, pulling him closer, and pushing his ass down onto the very _obvious,_ very _rigid,_ very _hot_ bulge on his pants.

Taka shivered at that. Maybe it was _fear._ Maybe it was _pleasure._ But there's one thing he's perfectly aware of— _guilt._ He had caused that explosion. If he had just followed this man's words, if he didn't just attempted to escape then...then...

_"I hope he kills all of you..."_

Taka's eyes glazed with unshed tears—remembering the interior of the place, the manager’s annoying face, the staffs who were just diligently doing their jobs for their paychecks, the unknowing customers who just wanted to fill their hungry stomachs—as the man cupped the base of his skull, yanking him downwards to stare at his flustered face with hot, smoldering gaze.

"H-how _could you..."_ he gasped when the thumb caressed the skin just below his ear, his clenched jaws, then his burning cheeks. The touch was _so soft,_ so _careful,_ so _gentle_ that it makes Taka want to _hurl and retch_ at the irony of it.

"Now that the _nuisance_ is gone," Taka felt all of his blood went down the drain when the yakuza held him closer, dumping his face onto his shoulder and sniffed Taka like the fucking _creep_ he is, "Let's have a nice, long _chat,_ won't we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh.  
> Kindly give me your wonderful feedbacks/criticisms/suggestions.
> 
> Thank you for reading~!


	10. Now I'm Left With Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never trust a yakuza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah. I died writing this chapter a few days ago. However, this will be the last part of this shit again coz I need to gather the broken pieces of my heart--LOL. I'm kinda having some shits in real life. And since I made a bargain with someone up there, with **10969Mima** as my witness, that I will write a 20-thousand word draft for HTMHF if I get the job I was applying for yesterday (which I did)...expect that the next update will take longer than expected. And we're gonna have more characters, too~! (WHY AM I EVEN MAKING THIS SHIT LONGER, THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE-SHOT GAAAAH)
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry that this isn't the sex-scene some of you were expecting. But I'll try harder next time! I'm gonna read more stuffs!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is all fictional. If you're not comfortable with non-consensual things, and ToruKa for that matter, kindly leave this page as soon as you can. You have been warned. And please don't sue me because they won't (cries) do this in real life. OOR is not mine.
> 
>  
> 
>  **ALSO** , the lovely collages from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found:  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21044)  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21062)  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21078)  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21095)  
> GAAAAAAAAAAH Thank you so much for them~!

Chat?

_Oh._

Taka could do that.

_Chat._

Talk _as if_ an entire restaurant didn't just blew up. Talk _as if_ there were no people injured or killed in the explosion. Talk _as if_ the mastermind is not hoisting him on his lap. Talk as of it's the most normal thing to do under these shitty circumstances.

Hah.

_Are you out of your fucking mind?!_

He wanted to say that aloud but he's too frozen to even react. The danger is too close to him, well, the danger is _hugging_ him like crazy so Taka just did the natural thing to do. Freeze like a fucking ice and let the man spoke into the air.

"It's been _too_ long," the man whined, "That fucking Satoh won't shut up about territory disputes and the foreign contracts were a mess so I have to settle them all before I can _finally_ see you."

Taka didn't respond. He just stared at the glass, watching as the streets and buildings, the entire of Tokyo faded away.

_The fuck is Satoh? Why is he even telling me his crappy job—o-oh!_

He stiffened when the man rubbed his nose against the sensitive flesh under Taka's ear. What the hell, is this man really smelling him?!

"You still smell _so good_ , just like the way you were _that night_..." he mumbled against the pale skin of Taka's neck, ignoring the way Taka flinched with his every word, "I went to Paris last time. I send some chocolates for you but Tomoya said that you don't want it? Don't you like sweets?"

Taka didn't answered. But it doesn't affect the man, instead, he continued rambling on.

"Anyway, I saw some pretty _lingerie_ in there. They would definitely suit you," Taka gulped at that. His traitorous and dirtied mind made up images of himself wearing nothing but a frilly, flimsy _nightwear_ as he straddled the man's lap just like this—the only difference is that instead of a dimly lit backseat, they were on a _massive bed_ and Taka is panting and moaning while the man beneath him is grunting as he _thrust_ —

What the fuck is _wrong_ with you, Takahiro?!

Also, what the fuck is wrong with this _man?!_

...

Well, he's already had a fucked up mind in _many levels_ but asking Taka about wearing lingerie as if he's asking him to taste a new flavor of ice cream?! That's like in a whole new level of having a perverted, fucked up mind!

Then, much to Taka's horror, the man's large hands found their way under his shirt. Spreading them on the expanse of his lower back, making Taka squirm and whimper in distress as the yakuza glided his hands on his sides, upwards to his bony ribs before sliding down again in a very, _very_ sensual manner.

"You've became so thin," he heard him clacked his tongue beside him, "Tomoya was not joking when he said that you're not properly taking care of yourself, huh?"

_And whose fault do you think it is?!_

Besides, is he for real? Is he really talking about measly thing such as Taka's weight when he just _bombed_ a fucking restaurant?!

"Maybe I should send more food for you, nee?" Taka glared at him, earning an amused chuckle that penetrates deep within his soul, "How about medicines? Your brother needs it badly, right?"

That snapped Taka out of his silence.

What the—

He pushed the man's chest away so that he can glare at him properly, so that he can _properly_ convey his burning hatred and disgust and anger at him passionately.

"D-don't drag my brother into this!" he hissed, especially when the hands roaming on his back didn't stopped their ministrations, "I don't— _hnnn_ —need anything from you! Much less my bro— _will you stop that!_ —ther's medicines!"

The man raised a brow in amusement as his lips curled into a loop-sided smirk and without stopping his hands from mapping Taka's body beneath his shirt. He can feel his temperature rising as all of his blood decided to rush into his face just because this asshole is _touching_ , caressing his feverish skin, but he won’t admit it aloud.

_Over his dead, cold body._

He might've noticed the blush high on Taka’s cheeks but he didn't commented on it.

"Ah, _finally_ , a reaction from my lovely kitten..." he purred.

"I’m not your kitten!"

"Heh...so, how's your brother," the motherfucker easily dodged his murderous glares as he stared at Taka's expressions, "What was his name _again_? Hiroki was it?"

His blood runs cold at that.

 _Of course_ he would know it.

 _Of course_ he would know about Hiro.

 _Of course_ he would use it against Taka the way he used the safety of the people in the resto against him.

 _Of course_ he would use Hiro against him, just after he had shown how _serious_ his threats are.

Of _fucking_ course.

"He's quite a nice child, right? Helping you with the chores and doing good at almost everything in school except for physical education," Taka cringed when the man spoke so casually of his beloved brother, his fingers inspecting Taka's curls trapped between his thumb and forefinger, "He's also hanging out with some underground band in Shibuya. He could've been a great vocalist—,"

Taka squeezed his eyes close at that. _Don't talk about my brother like that!_ Don't speak of him as if you know him, _as if you know_ how good his voice is, how good Hiro is in his academic subjects, how he hung out with his new friends in Shibuya, how he took care of household chores just to lift some burden from Taka's shoulders. _Don't talk as if you know him, you—!_

"It's a waste that he was born with a weak heart, ne?" Taka's eyes snapped open at that, his blurry vision focusing on the condescending smirk plastered on the man's face, "He needs a surgery to be able to live for more years, right? You'll _wan_ t that, right? Guess what, Takahiro, I can make it _possible_ for you..."

No, no _, no!_

"D-don't—," he gasped when the man abruptly pushed him off his lap, making him awkwardly land on the floor of the car. He blinked, disoriented for a moment before he looked up in confusion.

"Just say that you're _mine_ and I'll give it to you, Takahiro. Just say that you'll obey my each and every word and I'll save him _for you._ Just surrender your body and freedom and soul to me and I'll make him live longer, when you obviously can't—,"

A loud sound of palm hitting flesh resounded in that part of the car as Taka swung his hand onto the man's cheek. It was so loud, so abrupt that the cracking of skin alerted the men sitting on the front seat. There was a knock coming from the tinted glass pane that separates the front and rear part of the car, followed by a muffled "Is everything fine, Boss?"

Taka blinked, his eyes widening as the realization dawned at him. _Holy shit,_ he just slapped the yakuza! And judging on how those otherwise perfect dark maroon tresses fall onto the man's face, he might've done it a bit strongly! The color quickly drained from his pain at that.

_I’m so doomed!_

 

 

Toru glared at the man kneeling between his legs with so much _contempt_ that Takahiro instantly went shaking like a fucking _leaf._ He couldn't believe it! _How dare_ this boy hit him like that? And even in the bloody restaurant earlier, the boy yanked his tie as if he had the fucking rights to do it! _How dare you—!_

"Everything's fine, Ryota," he answered before lowering his burning gaze to the offending man. Sure Toru relishes at those _spiteful r_ emarks, those _sparks_ on Takahiro's eyes whenever he's meeting Toru's gaze head on but he should set a _limit._

_A boundary that shall never be crossed._

Because nobody— _ever_ —slaps the head of the Yamashita clan like that and gets away with it.

Nobody, _not even_ this Moriuchi Takahiro who's been the man of his nightly dreams since meeting him.

 _It's true_ , no matter how pathetic that sounds. He would always dream of this little man, moaning and _writhing_ and _squirming_ beneath him with his hair wild and soaked with sweat, his eyes half lidded—with pleasure, with exhaustion, and, _expectedly,_ dread and loathing. His full, swollen lips were parted open, and his neck and shoulders and chest—every expanse of his milky skin littered with marks and bruises and bites—bearing Toru's _mark_ of possession of him. The body rock to and fro as he mercilessly pounded into him, grunting as the tight, hot orifice clenched around his rigid cock even if Takahiro is already pleading him to _stop, stop, I don't want it anymore—_

Toru licked his lips in excitement as he recalled every _vivid_ detail of those dreams. Every _sweet sound_ he can elicit from those sinful lips, _every fluttering_ of those ridiculously long eyelashes, _every movement_ of that sweat-slicked skin—Toru remembers it all.

He tried taking out his frustrations onto others, called upon his previous favorites but even before he can get them naked, Takahiro's wanton images were already flooding his minds, making him more _frustrated_ , more _desperate,_ more _obsessed_ than he already is.

_Damn, I thought that I would die of blue balls! Fucking hell!_

Toru has been dreaming every night, every hour, every fucking second of his monotonous life into _fucking the hell out_ of this boy. God, how he wanted to _bury_ his aching cock deep within this luscious body, go _deeper and deeper_ until Takahiro can't even recall his name. He wanted to hold him, kiss him, ravaged him, and _possess_ him like he had ever wanted in his whole life.

And not even Satoh Takeru and that shitty restaurant and his towering paper works back in the office could prevent him pounding into that firm, tight ass. In fact, he would blow someone's head with a bullet if they dared to disturb them right now.

Toru has _never been_ so desperate before.

And this...this is all _Takahiro'_ s fault.

Takahiro who's been watching his entire face with _wide, childish_ eyes beneath him.

Oh.

"You really shouldn’t do that, Takahiro," he said, dragging each syllables, watching in fascination as the boy tried to look unfazed but still unable to mask his fear, "You must _make it up_ to me, nee?"

"I w-won't,"

Toru dragged the boy closer, his hands on either of Takahiro's shoulders and dug his nails onto it making the boy hissed in pain. His eyes automatically glaring at him, like a cat about to lash out to a stranger.

"I thought we've made it clear earlier, Takahiro," he said in a sickly sweet voice as he pushed the boy down—his hand met with futile resistance, the boy's _last attempt_ to struggle against him—until he fully sank on his knees, his face just centimeters away from Toru's burning crotch, "I'm not asking for your permission. You'll do what I say or you'll come home to a _scorched_ apartment, you won't like that, right?"

The boy's tried lunging at him but Toru was faster, stronger so he dumped the vocalist’s face onto his suit-cladded groin but that didn’t made Takahiro stop his struggling and squirming and screaming.

"How _dare you_?! How fucking dare you to threaten me like this?!" he hissed as he tried fighting off his hands over his shoulders, "Don't take it out to Hiroki, I swear, if you lay a single hand on him I'll fucking kill you— _hnnn!_ "

"What?" Toru smirked as he threaded his fingers and tightly gripped those bouncy locks, pulling backwards so he can stare at the _fuming_ face of Takahiro—the stirring on his groin grew _hotter_ and _wilder_ and _stronger_ at the sight of those teary yet _fiery_ eyes, "I'd like to see you try killing me, Takahiro. But you _wouldn't._..you know why?"

"Bastard! Murderer! _Rapist_ —!" he spat.

Instead of getting offended, Toru beamed at those harsh words. Ah, his _feisty little kitten_ never fails to amuse him. Here he was, being threatened to death and facing the most powerful yakuza in Tokyo, and yet he's still spitting fire and curses against him.

Fucking tease.

"Because you wouldn't want anything bad to happen to your precious _ototou,_ right?"

Toru watched as fat, glob of tears bloomed in the corners of those almond-shaped eyes. He can see how Takahiro desperately fights inwardly, like he's debating on what's more important—his _life or his brother's_ ; his _dignity or his brother's welfare_. But even before Takahiro can make a decision, Toru already knows what it would be.

Someone _who would_ work nonstop overnight, someone _who would_ be lured into clubs to sing and make more money for his brother, would _definitely_ choose to keep his brother safe and sound.

Toru grinned _maniacally_ at that, his fingers gently ruffling the other man's soft, fluffy hair.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hot tears stung at the corner of Taka's eyes as he looked up at the yakuza looming at him. “Why…?” His voice was cracked, barely audible in the shadows. “Why would you even want me? I’m inexperienced. Surely you could-,”

The redhead clacked his tongue in disagreement, his fingers never stopping touching his hair and scalp and the back of his head. It makes him cringe, the gentle touches were doing nothing to soothe him, instead it makes him gets even scared.

“Taka… _Takahiro_ …" he chided, the low baritone filling the silenced of the backseat, "Anyone can go out on the streets and purchase a cheap whore, kitten,” he said, cutting him off. “But _purity_...that,” an animalistic grin danced across his lips, “Is very hard to come by.” With softened eyes he settled back into the seat. “Come now, don’t look so scared. I promise I won't lay a hand on your precious sibling if you do me,” his hands travelled down to his belt and began to unbuckle it, making Taka frown in confusion.

"B-but— _what..?"_ he swallowed hard, because this man couldn't be thinking of asking Taka to...to give him a blow job, right? Taka doesn't have any clue on how to do that because, one, he's a man and he never thought that learning how to give a head would be _hand_ y in the future; and second, There are _shit tons_ of people in the red light district who are far more skilled than him!

“You'd like that, don't you? Besides if you do good, _maybe_ I'll even let you off for tonight, hmmm?” he smirked down at him, his hand palming himself through his trousers as he grinned. His other hand went towards Taka's face, trailing over his smooth jawline before the pads of his fingers landed on his parted lips—touching, feeling, _almost prying_ it to go wider.

 “Plus, a mouth like this shouldn’t go wasted.”

Taka could feel the hot trails of wetness fall down his cheeks.

Hiro will be fine if he do _this..?_

Hiro will be left alone and well if he go _down_ on this bastard?

And...and if he did well enough, he can go home without having his ass _literally busted_ again?

Taka licked his lips— _unintentionally_ lapping at the foreign digits on his lips—making the man growl low above him for being such a tease. He ignored it, his body automatically trying to move backwards but the free hand stopped him, and almost pushed his fucking face onto the now almost open slacks.

There's no escape.

_I can do this...just this once..._

For Hiroki...

Dread weighed down on his shoulders with every breath he takes as he finally— _reluctantly_ —scooted a bit forward. Like a  Cheshire cat, the yakuza triumphantly smirked above him and widened his legs in invitation. He braced his shaking hands on the red head’s thighs as he leaned forward and hesitantly licked a stripe across the clothed member—just like he saw those girls doing in some of the porn he had watched. It earned him a soft moan but the taste of the fabric is so fucking _shitty_ that he almost gagged right there and then. Taka had obviously _never_ given anyone a blowjob in his life, but he’d watched porn.

_It would just have to do._

With trembling fingers he reached up and unfastened the button and slowly slid down the zipper. He swallowed, and paused for a moment, giving himself _one last time_ to try and back out of this, but the yakuza’s fingers were in his hair and he knew it was too late. A hand slid under the fabric and pulled out rock hard flesh.

_C-crap—_

Taka felt _nauseous_ just the mere sight of that member. _What the hell_ , he knows that it was bigger than his own—his butt _hurts like a bitch_ remember—but to see this dick in person? Taka almost died in mortification and fear because—

"I-it's big!" he said, eyes wide in fear as he glanced up at the man who graciously smiled down at him.

"I _know_ , Takahiro..."

But you don't understand! _Were you expecting me to_...to put this...this _gigantic_ thing in his mouth?!

"I-it won't _fit_!" he grimly said, before looking down at the dick almost pressing against his chin. He tried moving away from it as if the member would just eat him or something equally terrifying. As if being face to face with this…this dick isn’t _terrifying enough._

The leader chuckled, petting his head like he would to a child, "Oh, it _would_ fit. After all, you have taken it up to your tight ass last time, remember?"

Taka does _remember._

And he wanted to kick himself because of the shiver that runs on his spine at those flashes of emmories.

“But that’s different!” he tried to reason out and fight the pressure being applied on his nape, “That…that can stretch but my mouth _can’t!_ ”

He smiled at him, like Taka had just said something so dumb, “Then we’ll just have to try to figure it out, nee?”

_Oh gods in heavens above._

_Please kill me now_ , please send this car straight to a fucking river and make it _explode_ or something—

His eyes widened in horror before he gulped and stared at the offending cock right before his eyes. He...he just have to put it in his mouth right? He can do _that._

Even before his determination died down, Taka grabbed the yakuza's member with both of his hands, caging and steadying it with his soft, feminine fingers.

The yakuza gasped above him and his fingers tightened in his hair. He was thick and long, heavy and hot in Taka's hand.

_W-what now...?_

He bit his lip in uncertainty of his next move as he began to idly stroke, trying to drag this moment a bit longer, trying to enjoy the freedom of his mouth without having something stuffed into it. The redhead allowed it for a moment, but his patience _—"Ah, hurry up and suck it!"_ —quickly wore thin as he tugged Taka’s face forward, his nose brushing against the dark curls at the base of his cock.

_Oh shit, shit, am I really gonna do this—_

His eyes fluttered shut as Taka slowly opened his mouth and slowly took the yakuza in. The leader let out a loud groan that it startled the shit out of him and suddenly thrust his hips up causing Takahiro to gasp in surprise and pull off.

"The fu—," he started to complain as he glared with his glassy, hateful eyes.

“Sorry,” the redhead murmured in amusement, but lacking any sincerity. “I forgot for a moment that you’re the _virgin non-virgin_ here.”

_What the hell does that even mean?_

But Taka wasn't given much time to ponder because the man is already urging him to continue and since he wanted nothing but to get this over with, he just roughly sighed before resuming his ministrations. He curls his free hand into a fist he focused on the pain of his nails digging into his palm as he swallowed the yakuza down again but he was so so big that Taka's eyes stung with more tears. He could not even take half of the member into his mouth and he already feel like _choking._

"Come on," the man _cooed_ above him, like he's not watching Taka choke with his hugeass cock, "Take it all in, Takahiro..."

Take it all in?!

_Take it all in?!_

_Then why don't you try swallowing a giant cock like yours huh?!_

He glared up at him but resumed working nonetheless. The member felt so foreign— _I know I have said it already for a million times but it's really big_ —and slick and soft and hard all at the same time in his mouth.

So this is how it feels when he's...

The scenes from his nightmares flooded into his mind, and to clear it up, he began bobbing his head. It was an unexpected taste in the way it tasted like nothing at all.

The yakuza was incredibly _vocal_ above him as he swirled a tongue across the slit-tasting salt. With a gasp of air he pulled off with a pop—needing to breathe. A trail of spit still linked his lips to the head of leader’s cock and that sight was apparently too much for the _ever-perverted_ redhead.

“Fuck, _look at you,_ Taka,” he groaned as he rolled his hips into the air. “You’re doing so well.”

It was completely unwanted praise, but Taka felt himself react to it regardless. Blame it to his endless _dreams_ , blame it to the instances there when the yakuza would praise him and Taka's traitorous body would react like a fucking _attention-whore._

With a little more courage—and motivation and **desperation** to just make him release so that he could finally escape—he sucked the man back into the heat of his mouth and tried to go deeper and _deeper_. His vision went blurry, his breathe went ragged as his lips closed around the rigid flesh, his throat opening wider to accommodate the unwanted intrusion. The yakuza's encouraging hands were on his head, pushing him further down, grinding his hips up to meet his mouth as he bobbed his head up and down onto his lap. The more he licked and sucked the saltier the taste started to get and that fear found its way into Taka’s chest again. But, he kept bobbing in a steady rhythm, occasionally surfacing for air.

It was so silent in the car, the wet, lewd sounds from his mouth filled Taka's ears as he sucked and licked and occasionally but the flesh. It was...weird but just hearing those desperate moans and pleasured hiss from the man he's servicing, Taka can feel this... _unfamiliar and indescribable_ feeling swell from within his chest.

He subtly glanced up, his heart increasing their beats as he took in the sight of a heavily panting, flustered yakuza above him. He...it was so different from the usual calm and collected and cool facade he usually wore—he looks so desperate, so pleased, so fucking debauched at the moment and Taka can't help but to have this twisted _sense of pride_ flush through his entire system.

 _He did this_.

He can make him forget his usual cocky and demanding and composed attitude.

Taka can make him writhing and groaning   and breathless and panting like a fucking dog in heat.

Holy shiiiiiiiit...

The sense of power and warped form of dominance rushed through his veins as he committed that completely _debauched_ look on the redhead’s face.

He whimpered at his dark, twisted thoughts before he went down on him again—this time, with _more_ vigor—his entire being intent on making him come as soon as possible.

The yakuza twitched beneath him, but kept his hips steady through his moans and whimpers. “Taka, Takahiro, _god!”_ he hummed, hands occasionally moving to his neck and beneath the collar of his shirt before clenching on his hair again. “So, _so good_.”

“Aniki.”

Taka froze in open-mouthed shock making the yakuza’s dick falling from his mouth with an obscene and wet popping sound.

He blink, gulping and tasting something foreign into his mouth and that's when he snapped out of his daze. What the fuck. _When_ did he started thinking like that?! Like he could _conquer_ this asshole—the bastard who's threatening to take everything away from him—just by using his _mouth_ to pleasure him. When did he started to take it as a challenge to make him feel pleasured and satisfied instead of just mechanically doing this?

"Boss."

There was an empty silence. Terrified, he dared to look up at the redh3ad. His eyes were cold and angry that Taka decided.to remain as silent as possible. As stubborn as he is, he still doesn't want to be at the end of those killer eyes.

“What?” the yakuza hissed as he pushed a button, probably for communicating with the people in the front— _oh god, I almost forgot that we're not alone in the car holy shit!_

"We're near, Aniki," said Tomoya's distinct voice, making Taka wonder if the two could perfectly hear all the _indecent_ sounds that's coming from his ministrations.

_Near what?_

"Fine. Just a moment," He responded with a wave of his hand and sucked in deep breath while rocking his head side-to-side as if to crack his neck. He punched the button again before lowering his gaze onto Taka. His dark, intense eyes softened and his fingers dipped under Taka’s chin to raise it. “I apologize, my dear kitten, but we will have to move this along a little _faster_ than planned.”

_What do you mean—_

Roughly, the yakuza abruptly grabbed at Taka's hair with both hands and lifted him as he stood on his knees. Taka let out a painful loud whimper but followed the movements as best as his confused little mind could. The moment he dared open his mouth,  the yakuza thrust in—the _huge, hard and so, so hot_ cock touching the back of Taka’s throat with his each piston. Taka felt like he was gagging, unable to breathe around the thick flesh that’s invading his mouth relentlessly. Tears started spilling from his eyes— _hard and fast_ —as his hands could do nothing but hold on to the leader’s thighs desperately.

Please be done.

_Please be done—mph!_

The yakuza’s moans grew louder and his thrusts became fast and more erratic —" _good, so fucking warm and tight!"_ —making Taka's brows furrow and jaws hurt like hell as he tried to take it all in, before he was slipping free from Taka’s lips.

Hot, white semen was sprayed all over his face the moment that dick left his mouth.

_The fu—_

He gasped in surprise, cum falling into his eyelashes and into his mouth. The redhead stroked himself through it, getting every last drop out—huffing and panting while his dark obsidian orbs were hidden by those heavy lids as he watched his jizz splattered on Taka's shell-shocked and flustered face—before taking the head of his cock and rubbing it against Taka's face to coat it more with his own release.

Another grunt and Taka knew that he was finished. But instead of letting him go, the leader had the audacity to traced his moist, glistening lips with the head of his spent member before easily sliding back in.

_Are you not done yet?!_

“Lick.”

_What._

Taka blankly stared up at him, his eyes taking all the satisfied look on the yakuza's face—his brows were knitted, his eyes heavily lidded yet carrying a sadistic gleam on them, and his lips were partly open before smirking down at him—promising something _dire_ if he won't immediately concede.

_J-just a little more..._

Taka reluctantly and slowly obeyed and licked and l _icked_ —his eyes shutting close at the bitter salt taste coating the almost flaccid, but still _scary as fuck member_ —until he had cleaned the leader’s cock of any cum. Satisfied, the yakuza pulled out and finally released his hold on him to stuff himself back into his pants.  

Taka watched it with no interest as he wiped his mouth with the sleeves of his shirt, his mind already reeling at the deed he just done. He wants to go home, he could go home now that he's satisfied _, right?_ Hiro would be safe, they would be safe, even if it's just for _tonight._

And all it took was him _going down_ on the man who raped him weeks ago.

Taka felt like sobbing at the _irony_ of it all but he couldn't. He would save the tears when he got home, when he's alone and locked inside their bathroom. He will retch and empty his stomach and brush and _brush_ his teeth until he can taste the man no more. He would wash his face, scrub it raw until he couldn't feel the warm, thick liquid splattered all over it anymore. Then he would cry, sob and wail to himself until he can't remember it all, until his eyes were red and sore, until he can't fucking stay awake anymore.

He gasped at those thoughts as he hesitantly peered up at the man who's now coolly fishing out a handkerchief from the pockets of his suit. He looks like his usual yakuza self again— _composed and level-headed_ —in fact, if not for the blush on his pale skin and the strands of red hair falling onto his face, Taka would find it hard to believe that he just got a blowjob from him—while Taka is on the floor of the car shaking and squirming, white cum painted all over his face—his entire being a _mess._

He tried licking his lips, frowning at the bitter taste, "I..." he starts, voice cracked beyond recognition. Each words he said hurts like a bitch, especially just after he had his throat abused with that gigantic cock, "I...can I go now?" he asked, soft and scared and _hopeful._

The man looked down at him, before he wordlessly pulled his face closer to wipe the liquid off it with his own handkerchief.

"Mmmh, you've done _better_ than I expected," he said, making Taka's heart flutter in hope, in trepidation of excitement of going home, as he allowed the man to fuss over him. His eyes closed on themselves as he felt the soft fabric wipe the cum off his lashes and cheeks and the corner of his mouth before opening it again, glinting with childish excitement.

"So can I...can I go now?"

The yakuza smiled at him— _lovingly, graciously, indulgingly_ —making Taka tilt his head in confusion and suddenly— _fear_ —because he looks so creepy smiling like that, reminding him of...

That's what he _looked like_ when he was...

Taka gulped, dread and disappointment sinking at the pit of his stomach a she tried to pull away. The car pulled into a stop but he could care less because... _because..._

That's how the yakuza looked like when he was _raping_ him, taking him against his will—even if Taka is already crying and sobbing and begging him to stop.

That...that _eerie loop-sided, arrogant smirk..._

"Ah, but the night is still _young_ , don't you think so?" he asked, voice low and rough as his hand trailed at Taka's nape, feeling the fine hairs on it.

He shuddered at the touch, his mind scramming no, _no, how could you do this to me, you_ —

"B-but you told me...you said I..." a hiccup racked his entire frame as tears spilled again form his eyes, “I…I did good, right? I’m a good… _good_ …” big, fat glob of tears rolled down his cheeks as the realization painfully hits him.

The man smiled at him.

"Ah, _Takahiro_ …" he shook his head in disappointment before hitting the back of his neck in an attempt to make him lose consciousness, "You should _know better_ than to trust the words of a yakuza..."

_Holy fuck, I’m such an idiot for falling to this trap twice!_

The resentment and regret were bitter in his mouth and the last thing he remembers before his mind went blank and dark was the wide _wide_ , manic grin on the yakuza's thin lips.

_I am so doomed._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls under my table to hide while waiting for your reactions.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	11. If I go down, I'll go down fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two sides of Toru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaack ahhh gaaaah
> 
> Thank you for everyone who helped me a lot during these past few days. I've missed writing just as you probably missed reading these shits so here I am. LOL.
> 
> Anyways, last week, I resigned from my job. And I made a...bet?? Again. With **10969Mima** as my witness, that if I ever landed the other job, I would update HTMHF this week, with or without the 20 000 word draft I promised (from the bet last time).
> 
> And so, here it is.
> 
> Warnings: Explicit sexual contents, non-con elements, and Toru's uhm...bipolar shits. 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the errors and fanarts I did.
> 
>  
> 
> Notes:  
>  **Nightmare_Taichou** made a fanart for this . You can find it at the fansite (ooorers.com), under the name Shion.  
>  **k_cat10969** in IG also made a fanart for yakuza Toru.  
>  I also made one, you can change my FB wall for the previews, and it will be posted in the fansite sooooon.
> 
>  **ALSO** , the lovely collages from [ToruKa Community in VK](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found:  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21097)  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21099)  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21101)  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21103)  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21105)  
> [here](https://vk.com/wall-97349547_21107)  
> GAAAAAAAAAAH Thank you so much for them~!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for everyone, the translators, the lovely artists, my co-shippers and friends who cheered me up ahhhh you guys are all the best
> 
> (wait for DREAMERS, it will have a longer Author's Note XD)

Takahiro is exhausted.

  
_God knows_ how he just...wanted to rest and sleep all day long, sinking in the soft, heavenly-smelling mattress beneath him. The sheets felt like silk on his skin, the pillows feeling like fucking _clouds_ against his head and all he wanted to do is to lie on his side, forget everyone and everything else as he allows himself into the sweet, _sweet_ caress of sleep on his bed.

  
Except that he don't have this soft pillow and silken smooth sheets on his bed at home. And he don't sleep _naked_.

  
And that, for some unknown reason, he could not move nor twist his body to—

  
_What the fu_ —

  
He was yanked out of his hazy, dreamy thoughts when a searing pain made itself known to Takahiro. It _burns_. It _hurts_. It's fucking painful that his eyes flew wide open, tears filling and spilling from them as he arched forward— _upward_ —blindingly searching for something.

  
"Ah— _ah_ —!" his voice seems to be stuck at his throat as the pain intensifies, something _familiar_ and scary pushing deeper into him, inch by painful inch, that makes his breath hitch with every thrust.

  
_No, no, this can't be ahh—_

  
With his blurry vision, he was met with blazing dark orbs—the _hauntingly_ familiar heavily-lidded eyes of the yakuza—and a self-satisfied smirk plastered on those thin lips. His skin flushed deep red, as his mind _desperately_ attempts to build itself, to wrap his head around the fact that _one_ —he's not at home right now, far from it, apparently; _two_ —the redhead yakuza is grinning like the _motherfucker_ he is while staring at Taka with those...crazed eyes, and lastly—the said yakuza has lodged himself into Taka's ass again, _dammit_!

  
_This can't be happening again gaaaah—!_

  
He let himself bounce back on the bed, his breath coming out into ragged puffs as he felt himself slowly— _agonizingly and painfully slowly_ —adjust around the thick girth that was just mercilessly shoved into him. His skin flustered into deep _red,_ burning and so fucking sensitive that he can feel all those goosebumps where the man is breathing down on him, and his insides are _killing_ him.  
It burns like a motherfucker, and thank God that the man didn't actually just _plowed_ right into him right there and then.

  
He just stared at Taka with those _disturbingly_ large eyes, taking in all of the emotions and expressions flickering on his sweat-slicked face.

  
Which does not really help his case for that matter—

  
"Cat got your tongue?"

  
That voice. Taka almost _combust_ on his back at the sound of that thick, lusciously deep voice right beside his ear. Goddammit. What was he doing here again? He can't really remember stuffs...and...and the man's _awfully_ huge member inside him makes it even more difficult to focus...

  
"Ah...put.. _out_..." he weakly panted, shivering when a chuckle was torn out of those lips, warm, moist breath caressing the sensitive tip of his ear, "Put it...away..."

  
But no. The man is a sadistic piece of shit who probably loves seeing Taka scream and sob because instead of actually pulling out—  
"No— _fuuuuuck_!" he drawled, eyes fluttering close as the yakuza pushed, right into the hilt, with one swift motion—the intensity of it almost send Taka's head crashing onto the headboard of that humongous bed, " _Fuu—ah—uuck.._."

  
"Fuck indeed," the man said, eyes never leaving his trembling form, "After you made me wait by being unconscious for two hours? You're gonna ask me to pull out?"

  
Damn. _Damn_. Taka squeezed his eyes even tighter. He doesn't want to see this _man_ , doesn't want to see that _face_ that had plagued his nights since the first time they spent together on a bed. He doesn't want to see those burning eyes, trained on him and _only him_ ; doesn't want to see that tall nose and that smug grin on his lips...and feel the heat coursing through his veins.

  
Wrong.

  
_Wrong_.

  
This is so wrong.

  
He tried to regain his breath, trying to make his mind wander away—where it is _safe_ , where it's _free_ from the touches of this asshole, where Taka can be free and not... _not..._

  
"Open your eyes, kitten," the man slurred, as Taka ignored the lazy thrusts of his hips and focused on thinking of something else, like...apples...and trees...with squirrels...in the park...where he played with Hiro...  
Hiro...

  
"I said, open them!"

  
Red flooded his vision as the man fisted his hair, arching his head back and forcing his eyes to shot open. Tears gathered at the red rims of his eyes as he tried to avoid the sweltering gaze of the man who took _everything_ away from him.

  
_No, no..._

  
_I don't wanna_...

  
"No..." he mumbled, trying to tilt his head away when the man leaned closer, eyes never blinking.

  
"Where are you, Taka..?" he softly mumbled, and raised a hand—for a moment, Taka has _forgotten_ the painful, unwanted intrusion into the most private part of his body, for a moment he has _forgotten_ the sting on his scalp and the throbbing of his own member between them, thinking that the man would slap him—

  
But the blow _never_ came.

  
Instead, he can feel the man's calloused hand caressing his face. Taka choked back a frightened sob as feel those warm pads of his fingers trailing _innocent_ , chaste touches on the side of his face, the apple of his cheeks, and the swollen skin under his eye...

  
Wrong.

  
_Wrong_.

  
Why is he doing this?!

  
More tears sprung up from his eyes as he watched the man's face morphed into confusion, then into worry, and yet his eyes remained wide, manic, _crazy_ —as he gave fleeting, gentle, _almost loving_ touches on Taka's face.

  
_What are you doing?!_

  
You're not supposed to...to...

  
"Come back to me," he said, the words uttered in such _deceivingly_ soft manner that Taka almost...almost forget that this man...the same man who's eyeing him like he's the _most precious_ thing in the world, is the same man who robbed him of everything, who corrupted him—not just his body, but his soul and mind as well— _everything of him_.

  
"Look at me!" he gritted out, grinding a bit harsher and harsher, pushing Taka wider than he's supposed to be and...and...when that dick hit _something_ within him—

  
" _Ahhn_!"

  
He was seeing fucking _stars._

  
He tried so hard to fight it, but a burst of pleasure ran up his spine and Taka’s hips lifted off the bed with a gasp. How could this be happening? How could his body _betray_ him like this? He didn’t want it! Turning his head he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look the yakuza in the eye in his shame.

  
"Ah, that's it..." the man hummed in satisfaction as motions grew languid, his pace slow and bordering to almost _punishing_ , making Taka's exhaustion seep deeper into his bones.

  
_Just fucking end it already..._

  
"You really should not think of _anyone_ else when you're in bed with me, Takahiro..."  
Taka whimpered at that, the sound of his name coming from his lips was too much for his fragile little mind. _Why am I even getting weak just by hearing his deep voice?!_

  
"I've spent a lot of days thinking of our _reunion_ , ne?"

  
Taka, with all the remaining energy within his body, glared menacingly at the man hovering above him, _who_ , just smirked in response. He's obviously enjoying those little acts of defiance from him _, I mean, look, just look at that fucking smirk!_ Taka wants to fucking lean forward and rip it off his face, if he's not just being pounded into his ass, dammit!

  
"You should have seen all the _stuffs_ I bought for you—,"

  
"What—,"

  
"And then you went to sleep for _two_ hours, and now you're thinking of something else..." the yakuza tilted his head in a _childish_ manner—which is a huge _contradiction_ to what he's currently doing—, "Are you, perhaps, thinking about your brother, Takahiro?"

  
Everything went crashing down at him at those words.

  
Hiro—Hiroki—, the restaurant, the red, golden flames engulfing it, the screams, those three suit-wearing men, Taka's words—

  
_"I hope he kills all of you."_

  
—the conversation inside the car, the yakuza threatening him, and Taka going down on his knees to give his first ever head to a man who promised...who _promised_ that he would let him off if he do it...but... _but_...

  
"Don't fucking drag him into this!" he screamed, fingers finding the man's arms and digging themselves into the tattooed skin, "Don't, _don't_ —,"

  
The yakuza eyed him for a moment, his movement has halted but Taka can no longer register the pain, the burn as he heaved—his heart pounding loud and clear beneath his chest.  
"Silly, Taka," he clacked his head, pulling his member out and earning a surprised whimper from Takahiro. The feel of loss and _emptiness_ grabbed him like a huge, grubby hand as he watched the man leaned over the bedside table—his muscles moving, the huge dragon head staring at him menacingly as it peek from that shoulder—

  
_No, no, don't fucking drool over him. What if he's got a nice body?! This is your chance to fucking escape!_

  
"I was just thinking that you should let him know that you're alright—,"

  
Even before the yakuza could finish that statement, Taka is already rolling away on his side, his face scrunching up at the sting on his ass as he tried to _literally_ crawl towards the opposite edge of the massive bed—

  
"The fuck?!"

  
"Ahh!"

  
—when the man's hand wrapped itself on his ankle, and pulled him back. He fell— _face first_ — hitting the soft mattress as he clawed his way away, kicking and tossing around on the bed, trying to fight the yakuza off.

  
"Let go!"

  
"You nasty _kitten_ ," the man chuckled behind him as he dragged the struggling Takahiro back towards him, "Where do you think you're going, _hmm_?"

  
Taka fisted the sheets to fight off the force that's pulling him back, " _Anywhere_ without you!" he spat, glancing over his naked shoulders and glaring murderously at the man who's just looking down at him with an amused look on his face, "Let the fuck go!"

  
The redhead pursed his lips, eyes settling in ice cold manner as he silently yanked him closer.

  
" _Oomph_!" Taka flailed, gasping a she arched his head off the mattress to prevent himself from, _you know_ , suffocating or someshit. He struggled, god knows how he tried kicking and _pushing_ and _punching_ the man away but the man's body is probably made of _adamantine_ because aside from exasperated grunts, the yakuza didn't even bat an eye at his ruthless actions.

  
"I hate you, I fucking hate you, you _aghh_ —," he felt all air escaped his lungs as the man unceremoniously pushed him down the bed, a strong arm pressed on his chest, _heavy and crushing_ —preventing all means of escape for him. His body sunk deeper against the soft plush, eyes trained onto the looming figure above him.

  
And the obviously expensive-looking phone on his right hand.

  
What...

  
Taka heaved as millions of possibilities assaulted his tired, _tired_ mind. What if the man would fuck him, rape him, and record it just to leak it on the internet for all the world to see? Or, what if the man would fuck him, rape him, and record it to hold it against him like a precious _blackmailing_ weapon? Taka doesn't know what's _worse_ , but there's one thing he's sure of at the moment, and that is the _ever growing_ hatred for this man. It grows bigger and broader with _every_ ragged breath he takes, with _every_ sight of those annoyingly handsome features, with _every_ flashes of the obscene memories they had shared.

  
"Stop fighting me, Takahiro," he said in a serious voice, his fingers gliding over the screen of the slick, black phone, "You know too well that I can hunt you down wherever you go, and," his eyes narrowed dangerously at him, the harsh light from the phone's screen illuminated his dark features even more, "...you wouldn't like the consequences of it, I'm sure..."

  
Taka swallowed at that, his mind weighing all the possibilities laid before him. This man...is a _crazy motherfucker,_ and as much as Taka wanted to dent it, he knows—witnessed it _first-hand_ —that he would do what he wants, even if it costs the lives of other innocent people.

  
"Don't drag him into this..." he helplessly whispered, mouth suddenly dry and aching as he let his arms fall back onto the sheets. _He's all I have._ Taka could fight and scream and kick while the man have his cruel, perverted ways with him but... _but_ he could not bring Hiroki down with him.

  
_He's all that I have..._

  
So please... _please_...

  
"Don't worry," the man said, as if he's _cooing_ , his hands threading into his matted curls. The gesture was so _pure_ , so _soft_ and _gentle_ and it's sending mixed signals into his befuddled brain, making him confused on what should he feel at this moment.

  
_Submit_. Just submit and everything would be over.

  
_But what would happen to me?_

  
_He would take care of you._

  
_What would remain to me?_

  
_**He** would be._

  
_What...what would be of Moriuchi Takahiro?_

_Would I be a mindless puppet? A sex slave for the rest of my pitiful life? For what? For whom?_

  
_For **Hiroki**. He had said it, right? He could **save** him, when you clearly **can't**._

  
_But I..._

  
"You're drifting away again, Taka..." he was pulled out of his stupor when a finger prodded at his lips. They automatically parted open, _unconsciously_ displaying a lost, wanton look that made the man's eyes glint in lust, in _desire_ , in _burning_ passion to possess him one way or another.

  
"Here's the phone," he softly muttered, putting the gadget into his shaking fingers. They hesitantly wrapped around it, the smooth features and his clear reflection on the black surface made his eyes widened in child-like astonishment, "He's probably worried about you. Tell him that you're fine and you're staying in a friend's place for the night, alright?"

  
Taka warily glanced at the man for that suggestion. What the hell, _is he being so considerate?_ What is he planning..?  
He gripped the phone tighter as he subtly study the man's face. He looks back at him looking bored— _disinterested even—_ the air around him practically screams of innocence and yet...Taka can feel all his hair standing on their tips as he stared at him.

  
_Never_ trust a yakuza.

  
He gulped, trying to give back the phone to him. He had learned his lesson. He won't fall to that trick ever again!

  
"N-no," he shook his head, making the man cocked his head to a side, "I...I don't know his number..."

  
_Lies._

  
"...and he's probably sleeping now and—,"

  
" _Moshi moshi, niichan?_ "

  
Taka's blood went cold at the familiar voice of his brother coming from the phone. His eyes grew wide, snapping at the man's looming form across him.

  
He couldn't have—

  
_How did he even managed to get Hiro's number?!_

  
And...and...

  
"Niichan?" Taka felt his head swimming, and for the first time in his life, he don't want to hear his precious brother's voice. Not now, _not when I'm like this_ —naked and vulnerable and clearly at the mercy of a powerful yakuza—"Is this niichan?"

  
A soft caress on his face made him flinch. The bastard is silently showering him again with gentle, almost chaste touches, making his eyes questioningly travel to meet those heavily-lidded ones.

  
" _Speak to him_ ," he mouthed. Taka shook his head. He don't trust his voice to be full and normal, enough to fool Hiroki that everything's fine, that his life is getting _fucked over,_ that his mind is not _fucked up,_ and that someone didn't just _fucked him_ minutes ago.

  
He reluctantly shook his head, mouth clamped shut in defiance. _I won't do it! H_ is eyes went on thr phone, frantically searching for the end button when the man suddenly— _without further ado—_ thrusts into him in one smooth motion—

  
"Ahh— _mphhh_ —!?!" his other hand immediately went onto his mouth to prevent the scream from tearing out of his throat as he felt that foreign member nudged and made its _bloody_ , burning way inside him again.

  
"Niichan!" Hiroki gasped on the line, grounding Taka back into reality as he vehemently shook his head, pleading— _begging_ —the man to _stop_ moving, _stop_ those...those tantalizingly slow motions that drives into that sweet spot that make him see white blurs and flashes under the lids of his eyes.

  
_I knew it...I fucking knew it!!!_

  
His back arched upwards when the man suddenly grabbed his weeping erection—which conveniently came to its full glory when the redhead shoved his cock into his ass—between them and pumped it, slowly, _lazily_ , and for a moment Taka had forgotten about his brother...who could probably hear the muffled sounds and lewd, sinful sounds of skin slapping against skin between their bodies—

  
"H-hiro—," he made a strangled sound at the back of his throat, his fingers clutching the phone for dear life until his knuckles turn white, "W-why are you still awake?"

  
"Thank god, niichan!" his brother muttered a breath of pure relief, and Taka can't be more thankful when he hear the drone of the television in the background—drowning whatever sounds coming from the sick joining of their hips, "I watched the news and saw the restaurant you're working..."

  
Taka tried— _he really did—_ listening and focusing on his brother's sweet voice but he can't really stay on it when someone is plundering his ass—the warm, thick and so _fucking hard_ cock pushing it's way into him. The motions were slow, like he's punishing Taka, dragging the moment until he can feel his toes curl in almost reaching the peak, almost hitting the edge but then the bastard would pull out—leaving a chaotic feeling of emptiness, of _neediness_ that make Taka's hips involuntarily buck upwards, meeting and trying to take him all in again.

  
"It's burnt to the ground! Somebody said that it's because of a _gas lea_ k..."

  
Wide almond-shaped eyes met steel-cold ones, the smirk on those lips growing wide at the implication of Taka's movements. How dare his body do that shit?! _Now, this asshole would think that I actually like..like this..this sick..._

  
Ahhh. _Ah. Ah..._

  
"...and I'm so worried about you. Where are you, Niichan? Are you alright? And whose phone are you using?"

  
Horror of all _horrors_ , the yakuza leaned forward, his muscular chest draping itself on Taka's. A whimper almost escaped his lips at the friction on his perked nubs, eliciting a smug reaction from the bastard, "Answer him..."

  
Gods above, what had he done wrong to experience this mind fuckery?!

  
Taka tilted his head away from those warm lips, his mind reeling, trying to came up with a good response. What would he say to his brother?

  
"I...I'm fine," he said, short and fast, "I'm at a friend's house..."

  
Tears streaked down his burning cheeks as he almost gagged at that word. Sure, he's in a _friend's_ house. A _friend_ who's mercilessly ploughing into him while his brother is on the line. And what's worse is the fact that...that Taka had _blindingly_ followed the yakuza's orders earlier.

  
He had lied to his brother.

Again. 

  
For how many times already, he don't have any idea. He had _lost_ count of them, since he went home shattered and broken weeks and weeks ago.

  
"I was...was..."

  
_No, no, stop..._

  
He felt the hand went back on his dick, rubbing and gliding at the burning flesh in time with his thrusts. Taka's back is already off the bed, like a taut bow string seeking _freedom_ , seeking _release_ from the man's skilled ministrations. Sweat bloomed from his temples, forehead, cascading down to his eyes and blurring his vision even more until the man is reduced to a blur of _red_ , _pale_ flesh and _black_ inks.

  
"I was out of the resto when...when it happened..." he bit back a sob when the man pushed impossibly deeper, his cock ramming into him and stretching him even more but not pulling out this time. He just stayed there, patiently peering down at him, his pelvis glued to Taka's luscious mounds as if they're born joined together like that.

  
_Fuck you_...

  
_Fuck you very, very much, you fucking—_

  
“Are you alright, niichan..?” came Hiroki’s worried response, but Taka couldn’t answer right away. He’s so distracted by the flame coursing through his system, the liquid fire burning everything in its wake as the yakuza hit that spot over and over again, with merciless abandon. His eyes were almost rolling at the back of his head at the intensity of it, teeth clamped on his plump, red _red_ lips—as he tried, _god_ , he tried, to swallow all the lewd sounds he’s making.

  
“Y-yes!” he hissed, just in time when the redhead raised his legs onto his broad shoulders, bending Taka into a bow until his knees almost touch his shoulder blades—the cock impaled into him burying _deeper_ , easier in this angle. The yakuza smirked down at him, their lips just inches apart as he hovered over him, his eyes boring holes and hell into his own wide, scared ones.

  
“I—I’m just…just…s-shaken…”

  
Truth. He’s currently shaking in _fear_ of being caught, in _fear_ of being discovered by his beloved brother—and most of all, he’s shaking for merciless onslaught into his unwilling body.

  
“…about what happened so…so…”

  
His eyes squeezed shut when the man dragged his teeth onto his jawline, biting his chin, and licking all the way down to the sweat-slicked column of his neck. The pain, the adrenaline, the fear— _all of them piled over each other_ —over and over again—until Taka can’t tell which is which anymore—

  
“Should I come and get you, niicha—,”

  
“No!” he snapped, grabbing the man’s arm as he tried to scurry away from those sinful mouth which was planting kisses, _sucking_ and biting on his creamy skin. The marks he made last time were just fading and here is the bastard covering him again with multitude of them. His lips was hot on his pulse, and Taka almost—almost moan out loud from the sensation. Those matted red tresses filled him with the man’s scent, the swirling tongue bolted heated shivers running down his spine as the yakuza kissed and sucked along his jaw and neck.

  
“But—,”

  
“I—I’m fine,” he gritted out, jolting with a gasp as the man leaned back and do the same on his supple thighs, “Just…just go to sleep ne…”

  
_Don’t leave me._

  
“I’ll be fine…”

  
_Help me…_

  
“I’ll…I’ll be home…” he mumbled, eyes casted on the dark unblinking ones across him—giving him his decision. He will not stay here _forever_ and let him have his wicked ways on Taka’s body. He would get home, even if he have to _crawl_ —even if he have to _walk naked_ in the streets, “I’ll be home first thing in the morning, ne? Ne?”

  
“Uhm…okay…”

  
_No, no. no—_

  
“Please be careful, Niichan—,”

  
_Don’t—_

  
“I love you, ne?”

  
Fresh sets of tears clouded his vision as he nodded, even if Hiro can’t see him—which is good because Taka would rather die than to sow his…this debauched look on his brother—, muttering a series of _“I love you too”_ and “ _See you later,_ ” before the phone was snatched out of his hand.

  
He looked up at the man above him. His eyes were unreadable, dark and _threateaning_ —like a spoiled kid who couldn’t have his newest toy. The kisses were _gone_ , the soft caresses were just memories now and Taka, just by staring directly at those bottomless darkness, knew how fucked he will be after this ordeal.

  
“You can’t escape me, Takahiro,” he grunted, snapping his hips forward again—hand griping his own leaking erection—the sensations were overwhelming and Taka couldn’t help his back from arching at the delicious arousal.

  
Wrong. Wrong.

  
“You _can’t_ …I _won’t_ allow it…” he growled, pistoning with reckless abandon, making Taka hiccuped and sob with every thrust, with every glide of those huge hand, with every nip and bite on his flustered skin, “Mine—you’re _mine_ —,”

  
Taka tilted his head away, his brows knitted in confusion. He wants to crawl away, but there’s something _warm_ and _hot_ and _painful_ building in his groin, seeking release, seeking bliss and he knows— _for some fucked up reaso_ n—that this man could only give…

  
He paused at that.

  
When had he _stopped_ fighting? Since _when_ did he yielded to a man like this yakuza? An unfamiliar emotion welled from within him. What does it mean? Why is the mightiest of them all saying those shits over some broke, unemployed and broken person like him?!  
The questions—however—remained unanswered as the redhead’s motions deepened, angling just a little more until his ass is almost into the air. Taka’s eyes searched for the man’s—but they were dark, lost, lust pooling over it, and he doubt that he could scream and kick his way out of this situation this time. His hands unconsciously grabbed the tattooed shoulder—raising scratch marks and leaving crescent indents on the pale skin—for any kind of support as a voiceless scream was forced out of his aching throat.

  
“There it is…”

  
What is…

  
The redhead took his pleasure—now that there’s no hindrance, now that Taka is not struggling anymore—and forced Takahiro to follow—

  
“No, _no_ stop you—,”

  
—the smaller arousal slapping between their bodes, skin slapping obscenely, him pounding so deep that Taka was rendered helplessly moaning, low and long—

  
“ _Ahhhn_! You fucking _rapist_!”

  
His hands anchored onto the yakuza’s shoulders as he slowly lose himself into the pain and pleasure numbing his brain—

  
“— _murderer_!”

  
The man thrust even faster and deeper until white dots like starts flooded his vision as the pressure built deep in his pelvis—

  
“I’m…I’m—,” he choked, tears relentlessly cascading on his crimson cheeks. Humiliation burning and the sick feeling of disgust roaring inside his mind. He might be sounding so desperate and needy but somehow…Takahiro couldn’t care at that point. He had been _dreaming_ , having countless nightmares of this since _god knows when_ and…and he’ll probably lose his mind if he won’t reach the peak this time.  
And it seems to be the same case for the bastard because he suddenly grabbed the weeping length again, this time fisting it harder. Taka’s moans and whimpers filled the otherwise silent room as a tidal wave surged from deep within him—

  
“B-bastard—!”

  
The dual orgasm hit him like a fucking tsunami—it was _overwhelming_ and unstoppable—the climax making him feel like everything is crashing around him as his cum splattered on their chests.

  
Tired.

  
Taka was too _tired_ , but the man is still thrusting and he was oversensitive as fuck and it was too much—too _raw_ , too _strong_ , lasting for what it seems like forever—until the redhead buried deep and shuddered against him, groaning at his own release—his teeth sinking on Taka’s shoulder which— _god, pleas just kill me now_ —sent stars hurling across the black canvas of Takahiro’s mind.

  
Done.

  
It was done.

  
Taka watched with glazed, half-lidded eyes as the man finally collected himself, gently putting his legs back on the soft mattresses.

He was heaving, the climax and all the pounding and screaming earlier took a toll on his smaller body and all he wanted is to sleep. Sleep and go home. Or vise verse. _Anything_ will do, he just need to get away from this…this…

  
A small smile played on the man's lips as he situated himself between Taka’s legs again and that’s when he realized that he still hasn’t pulled out—the girth still thick and hot and _buried_ deep within him—

  
“You’re calling me a lot of names…” he drawled, while Taka shook his head as he weakly tried to get up on his elbows, crawling backwards just to get him out of his probably-now sore ass.

  
“No, not agai—,”

  
“And I’m almost believing that you’re _fond_ of giving me _pet names_ ,” he purred, eyes glinting in mischief as he rolled his lips, making Taka wantonly moan and swallow the “ _In your fucking dreams!”_ retort that he’s planning to say. He was then yanked back, the man's cock driving straight to his prostate.

  
_Fuuuuuuuuck_ —

  
“I can’t…I can’t any _mphmm_ —,”

  
The redhead silenced him with a kiss, deep and hungry and _demanding_ —his hands now more free to roam and cress and pinch and scrape and feather touches over Takahiro’s overly-sensitive skin.

  
_Give it a rest already, mou!_

  
“Stop… _stop_ …”

  
But he was relentlessly plundering deep, driving Taka through and beyond the oversensitivity until he was trembling, fearful of the sheer intensity of the storm brewing within him. _Everything_ was burning, not just his body but his entire mind as he saw the man’s face hovering close to him—eyes perfectly trained to him, nose touching the tip of his own, and his lips devilishly smiling down at him—

  
_Damn you—_

  
“No more…no more…”

  
“We’ve got a long night, Takahiro…” he mumbled the words, hot and moist against his quivering lips, and even if those dark eyes were almost peeking right through his very soul, Taka can’t make himself to look away—the image of the redhead yakuza burning through his mind with so much details his eyes start to hurt—, “And I’ll make sure that you’ll finally remember my name by the end of it.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Toru hummed a random tune as he lathered the soft, dark locks in front of his face. It was almost dawn, and after countless times of taking Takahiro, making him cry and see _stars and the moon_ and made him forget even his own name, he had finally deemed their…reunion over.

  
The boy has become _unresponsive_ since then, his eyes glazed and tired—the heavy lids almost closing over the dark orbs beneath them. He was limp, almost _boneless_ as Toru hauled him like a rag doll into his arms. The singer made some noise of discomfort so he has to be _extra_ gentle in lifting him up and putting him into the large porcelain bath tub filled with scented soaps and water.

  
Takahiro weakly struggled, trying to claw his way out of the tub but Toru wouldn’t have any of it. He dragged him back, those plump, sore ass plopping on his lap as he proceed on cleaning him up.

  
“Don’t make this hard for both of us…” he whispered, earning a snort of disagreement from the boy. It was something that had caught his fancy—the way Takahiro would still have the guts to defy him, those almond-shaped eyes _glaring_ the ever-living daylights out of him, even if he’s already , even if he already has his hard cock _screwing_ that tight, heavenly ass.

  
He had never felt so _calm_ after a night of fucking, heck he had never even dragged someone into his bathroom to clean up the mess he made on them—let alone clean and wash them _as gently as he could,_ like what he’s doing to this Moriuchi Takahiro.

  
“The obedient you are, the faster you could rest, alright?” he asked, threading his fingers into the curls and massaging the soft scalp beneath them. He smirked when the boy unknowingly tilted his head backwards, his smooth back resting on his chiseled chest as he obviously enjoy the gentle treatment on his hair. He tilted his head even further, but got the shock of his life when he realized that the singer is still glaring at him even in his vulnerable state at the moment.

  
He cocked an eyebrow at that.

  
“You. Sick. _Fuck_.”

  
A chuckled forced its way out of his throat at that, the laughter reverberating into the confines of that elegant bathroom. _Jesus Christ_ , this kid doesn't really know how to control his mouth huh? He had just witnessed a bombing, got his mouth fucked in a car and had been taken over almost a dozen of times in the last few hours and still, he’s here, throwing casual insults at Toru?

  
At Yamashita Toru?

  
“I swear…” Takahiro licked his lips, and damn if Toru’s groin didn’t burn at that sight, his eyes tracing the glide of that little pink muscle over the red, swollen lips, “I swear you’re sick in the head. Is this…is this how you treat your toys..?”

  
Toru hummed at that. So, the kid knows his place huh? That’s… _good_? He’s just a toy afterall, something that will relieved him from the boring, uneventful nights in Tokyo, but he’s still Toru’s. He might be a replaceable toy, but he’s still _mine_.

  
Mine.

  
There’s that feeling again. The odd sense of _need_ that gripped him all these days—all those moments fucking into and him—the fierce desire to _claim_ , to _consume_ , to _unravel_ , to penetrate through all the layers of Takahiro’s submission— _break him and reconstruct him so he could shatter him again_ —the strong urge to _corrupt_ this too bright, too innocent, impudent spark that dared to deny and defy all of his advances.

  
Those feelings that this…that only Takahiro could pull out of him. It was strange, it was _maddening_ , yet his body and mind craves for it— _craves for him_ —craves for those forced moans and whimpers and other kitty-like noises from that full lips; craves for those _unknowingly_ lustful, and heated gazes; craves for those _tears_ spilled while muttering curses, while muttering threats against him—  
And no one should ever see them because Toru won’t hesitate to empty his CZ 75 SP-01 SHADOW PISTOL into the head of any idiot who would dare to touch his property—to touch the Yamashita-gumi’s most precious property as of the moment.

  
“No…” he mumbled, satisfied at those thoughts, “Close your eyes.”

  
“You haven't answered me—,”

  
“I don’t have any obligation to answer to you, Takahiro,” he said in a stern voice, watching as the once-lax shoulders suddenly went stiff and tensed. Takahiro must be his _favorite_ person at the moment, but there are still boundaries that he could not cross—and one of them is forcing Toru to answer shits that he don’t want to—, “Close your eyes or the shampoo will burn them.”

  
“Go to hell— _mphhh_!!!”

  
_Don’t tell me that I didn’t warned yo_ u, he thought as he splashed the shower head on top of the singer’s head—the curls matting and covering almost half of his face. He grinned when the boy shook his head, spraying droplets of suds and warm water everywhere— _like a drenched kitten_ —splutterring curses and threats that made Toru throw back his head in amusement.

  
The next few minutes were spent in relative silence. He might be relaxed as fuck, but he knows that Takahiro is far from being comfortable with him around. _I mean_ , it's just normal to stiffen from time to time when you're sitting on the lap of the man who used and fucked you over and over again, right?

  
But Toru couldn't care less. Let the boy fear him, let the boy feel skittish around him. It's just right, to let Taka remember his place, even of Toru has been indulging at him like he had never done before his previous affairs.

  
He sighed, his head, clear for once since the last time they've met. His mind has constantly been in a fogged state, filled with indecent thoughts and countless of ways on how we would make the younger man to _submit_ —whether of free will or through force—and beg for him. He was so distracted and oh-so frustrated that he could have wiped out an entire branch of the clan just for the heck of it. And now that he had his fill...it was like being able to finally see again without the aid of glasses, or like being able to torture and murder and entire warehouse of people without the police force suddenly popping out of nowhere, or being able to hit the target dead on with just one try. Something like those.

  
It feels good. _Satisfying_ , even.

  
And somehow, it makes Toru want to spoil this...this _delectable_ morsel sitting and sighing begrudgingly on his lap.

  
"Your skin is so pretty," he said, fishing out one of Takahiro's arm and bring it above the bubble-filled water. He heard the boy's breath hitched at the contact, but paid no mind on it as he eyed the limb being presented to his eyes. It looks so soft, Taka's skin—creamy and pinkish because of the warmth of the bath, the dim lights casting soft shadows, making it glisten. It looks so delectable, so _soft_ , so _supple_ that Toru's mouth instantly itched with the urge to just bite down on that delicious morsel, drag his teeth and leave yet another mark that will last for days.

  
But he stopped himself, _look_ , Takahiro is already shaking. And he does not really want to have a bath with an unconscious body because Taka would definitely pass out if he would start to scream and struggle against him again. Besides, his mind is already reeling, thinking of how Taka's skin would be even prettier _bearing_ the marks of their clan—an eastern dragon, a mirror of his own, would spiral all over that expanse of white, creamy back, coiling on his arms and peeking on his collar bones. Toru licked his lips as images of a tattooed Taka flooded his mind, blood surging downwards again—

  
"It'll look better with tattoos, don't you think so?" he murmured, directly against the red-tipped ears that earns him visible shudders from the man on his lap.

  
"I...I don't think so."

  
_Feisty till the end, huh?_ Toru smirked, his breath hot and tantalizingly close to the sensitive ear before he hummed and pulled back, giving some space to the singer.

  
"That's a waste," he said, "but sooner or later, you'll have to do that, it will be some sort of protection—,"

  
"Protection from _what_?"

  
"From _everybody_ else who probably had lost their mind to target my property."

  
The slosh of water was so loud in his ears when Takahiro suddenly turned around to glare at him, his hands gripping the rim of the porcelain tub, "I am not your property!" he said, stressing out each syllable, spitting them like venoms, "And if I will ever need protection, it will be _against_ from you, you fucking rapist!"

  
Toru's eyes narrowed at that.

  
" _Rapist_?" he repeated, voice getting a few octaves lower, "You're still calling it rape even if you're clearly _enjoying_ it earlier..," his hands raise themselves to cupped those flushed, full cheeks between them—his soft touches giving out a false sense of gentleness and warmth—before he yanked Taka's hair back, harsh and merciless in one swift motion.

  
"Ah!" Takahiro's hands immediately grabbed his arm to pry his fingers off, but he won't relent, pulling and pulling until Taka's eyes fluttered shut in pain, hi head arching back in an obviously painful manner, "Hurts! _Hurts_!"

  
"Listen to this, Takahiro," he said, threatened to be exact, "Listen very _well_ —,"

  
Taka didn't, as expected, because he started thrashing out again, kneeing him and trying to pull his hand off his messy curls, "Let go! It hurts!"

  
"—you might be something else, and I might be enjoying your defiant attitude but don't fucking _lie_ to me that you did not enjoy what we did earlier—,"

  
Tears welled up to the half-lidded eyes, "I didn't—," Takahiro tried to say, only to be stopped by a gasp when Toru tugged firmer on his scalp, "Stop!"

  
"What?" he leered, leaning forward until his lips were almost touching the boy's jaws as he peered up with intense set of dark orbs, "You didn't like it when I was _kissing_ you all over? _Biting_ you in your most sensitive places? You didn't like it when I put my fingers in you?"

  
A groan. Taka's pained groan pierced his ears.

  
"How about when I _sucked_  you off? You're still leaking and hard even if you already came for god knows how many times already, right?" he mumbled, breath fanning on the vibrantly scarlet skin, "How about when you fucked my mouth, you little minx? You're telling me that you don't want it but you almost made me bald by pulling at my hair, your legs clamping on my head as you thrust into my mouth, remember?"

  
A voiceless whimper, Taka's legs stopping their kicking motions and instead focused on twisting themselves—probably to cover the tell-tale signs of his pretty little cock rising into its glory arousal again, just by hearing him do the dirty talk.

  
_Seriously, Takahiro, how bad are you in lying, hmmm? Oh, you pretty little liar._

  
_You're vulnerability makes me want to tear you up more, you know?_

  
"No, no..." he was still shaking his damn head. The denial and his principles were probably ingrained too deep into him to be this strong even being face to face with danger, with death.

  
"And when you come clinging onto me when you cum—no one goes away alive after trying to hurt me and what did you do? You scratched and almost ripped off my skin with your nails as you arched over the bed, and pressed closer to me when you reached your peak—," his frown deepened as he traced those tears as they rolled down on his heavily flustered cheeks, "and you're telling me that you didn't enjoyed it? That you're still calling me a _rapist_?"

  
No answer, and god if it doesn't infuriates him to no end. He gripped the hair tighter, Taka letting out a half-sob, half scream—as he finally, _fucking finally,_ relented.

  
"No, no, ple * _hic_! ase! " he hiccuped, his sobs wracking his entire frame, eyes red-rimmed and face contorted in pain, in exhaustion, in resignation, "Stop....it hurts...it _hurts_..."

  
Toru stared at the crying face above him. It wasn't want he wanted, Taka crying because of depair and not of _insatiable, insufferable_ lust is not the view he wanted to see at the moment, so he just sighed, and let go of the hair. Taka immediately tried to scramble away—like a hurt, confused little kitten—but Toru was faster. He had already tugged him closer, as such that he's still straddling him, this time, facing him. He put a hand at the base of his skull and guided Taka's head onto his shoulder, allowing it to muffle Taka's wailing and sobbing.

  
The singer didn't even struggle after that, and for once, Toru had felt that his victory would come closer to his touch, closer to his taste. Taka would be his, body and sou _l, broken or not._

  
"Hurts... _hurts_..." Taka chanted on his shoulder, his nails digging onto his tattooed arms but he did not even winced, "I don't...I don't want it any...anymore..."

  
Toru smirked, propping his chin onto the scented hair, looking at the blank expanse of wall across him, relishing the warmth and softness on his lap, of the man who's now almost practically hugging him, "It doesn't have to be always like this, Takahiro...just be obedient, ne?"

  
A small pause, before Taka hesitantly nodded, sniffing and averting his gaze away from him.

  
"See? That's a good boy," he praised, running his hand over his back in a calming, soothing manner. The pads of his fingertips tracing every bumps and valleys of his spine, making Taka melt even deeper onto him as exhaustion quickly claimed his consciousness.

  
"Home..." Taka sleepily mumbled against his shoulder, his lips gliding over his rapidly heating skin, "I wanna go home..."

  
_But this will be your home_ , his mind reasoned out, but knowing that Taka is stressed beyond his limits already and that he's just a push away from totally breaking, Toru finally yielded.

  
"I'll send you first thing in the morning," he conceded, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth—the urge to occupy his mind through bloodbath is getting stronger again—, "Just come whenever I ask for you, ne?"  
Taka groggily nodded, muttering a soft "I _wanna go home..._ " again before completely passing out on him again.

  
Tired. Spent. _Totally ruined_.

  
Toru sighed, his fingers threading into the locks, feeling the warm water slowly getting cold as he familiarize himself with the weight, with the welcomed presence above him.

  
He would indulge Taka one more time.

  
Let him recover and _mend_.

  
Let him think that he still has his _puny, little_ freedom.

  
Because Toru could easily collect him back whenever he wants to.

  
_Ah..._

  
He stood up, gently hoisting the limp, warm and wet body over his arms as he carefully stepped out of the massive bath tub, his eyes softening for a moment as he shamelessly gazed at the peaceful look on Takahiro's sleeping face.

  
_...how the mighty has fallen._

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think~!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Only You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~!
> 
> This is quite a short update, and would not contain explicit scenes coz we still have an actual plot to follow lolololol. I've been sick since Wednesday, running a fever or someshit but I'm feeling better now so hooray! I'm quite happy today and I'm starting to wonder on what shit life would slap on my face later?? Hmmm
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, I made another fanart for HTMHF (The one I previewed on facebook) and it's already up in the fansite~! Please tell me what you think of it gaaaaaah
> 
>  
> 
> Also, the shits I'm asking last time is still ongoing. I will be accepting responses until June 17, 2018. Here's the link again, hohohoho: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1RveIW3fZ4IGYe8f7kSaH_5d50Gpwbk4CXsbfppp9XpA/viewform?edit_requested=true
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Taka blearily watched as the city slowly starts into a new day—early shops opening their doors, salarymen and students rushing towards the direction of the train station to avoid the rush hour later, some drunken men walking like zombies in the sidewalks, probably after a night of fun and drinking—with tired, _red-rimmed_ eyes. He was leaning on the glass of the heavily-tinted car, Tomoya driving in the front while humming a random tune to ease the silence inside the vehicle.

He envied those people who are out in the streets at this early hour, just minutes before the dawn. They have spent their night doing whatever they wanted to—sleeping, drinking, hanging out with friends or families—and yet Taka has been stalked, threatened, abducted _and sexually abused_ by some sex-crazed red-head yakuza.

_Yamashita Toru,_ his mind snapped—because true to the yakuza’s words, he _really made_ Taka remember his name when he denied Taka of cumming after hours of being teased and being brought towards the age— _before mercilessly stopping all of his ministrations_ —leaving Takahiro panting, gasping, _huffing and begging for release_ —which the bastard deprived him of, well, not until Taka was screaming his name to Mars and back.

_Jesus._

Remembering those things just make his head hurts like fuck. He doesn’t want to, but _every time_ he closes his eyes, he could still see those heavily-lidded ones _, every time_ the fabric of his clothes rubbed against his skin, he could still feel those touches, the warm, moist lips breathing out his name…

He squeezed his eyes shut at that.

He was _so tired._

He just wanted to curl up, pull this…this new set of clothes even higher to hide the marks on his neck and wrists, down to his legs. He swears that the asshole might be a vampire coz look at my fucking body dammit— _it looks like I’ve been attacked by a horde of blood-sucking monsters!_

He wonders if Tomoya could see it from the rearview mirror. Taka has been so paranoid about that, especially when the seaweed head fetched him from the yakuza’s bedroom earlier…

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You called, Aniki?” Takahiro tiredly turned his head to the side to see the newcomer in that dark cold room. He had slept for a few hours—one, two at most—before he was gently shaken out of his unconscious state by a very composed Yamashita Toru. At first, he doesn’t want to get up, doesn’t want to part from the soft, _heavenly_ mattress—which is _fucked up_ because that’s the very place where he’s been pounded into, all kinds of fluids had stained the sheets on it— _countless of times_ —over the course of the long, long night. But the yakuza had leaned down to whisper that he’s about to go home and Taka instantly bolted up, head spinning and ass hurting like fuck. Yamashita— _because I would die first before I call him by his name_ —chuckled, like the chuckling _motherfucker_ he is, before he supported his swaying body.

“No need to get hasty, Takahiro,” he murmured, tilting his head up to meet those glinting eyes, “I’ll get you ready, alright?”

Taka wanted to smack himself for thinking that, by _“get him ready,”_ Yamashita means stripping him of the white shirt he’s wearing and just…pounding into him again. So, imagine his surprise when the yakuza suddenly sat behind him and started dressing him in long-sleeved turtle neck shirt—which smells and _feels expensive and brand new by the way_ —and sweat pants. His mind is reeling, his body is swaying in exhaustion—making him, reluctantly lean back on the warm, naked chest behind him to prevent himself from falling face first on the floor—as he desperately tried to wrap his mind about their current situation.

The yakuza is dressing him— _gently and patiently_ —like a kid.

The said yakuza is _Yamashita Toru_ —and based on what Taka has witnessed and experienced—first-hand—last night, is a deadly powerful guy who could kill people on a whim and…and…

The same person who’s kneeling in front of him to button up his coat.

_What the fuck._

Even Tomoya looked bewildered, his messy green hair bouncing sideways as he glanced between him and his boss kneeling on the floor. The look of pure shock and horror makes Taka believe that the yakuza should _never be doing_ things like that…like, _you know_ , dressing up some random kid he just fucked a few hours ago.

Yamashita hummed in acknowledgement, making Tomoya went stiff on his spot, “Prepare the car and drive him home. He’ll be staying with his brother for a _few days_ —,”

His head instantly snapped towards the face of the red-head, his eyes glaring at the implications of those words. _He’s talking as if he owns me! He’s talking as if he holds my freedom!_ However, despite the growing urge to just head butt this conceited fucker, Taka decided to just let it off for now. He’s tired and he wouldn’t want to ruin this chance to finally go back home because of his snarky remarks.

“—but he’ll be back before the end of the week,” he said, meeting his heated glares with cool gaze. He heard Tomoya made a sound of acknowledgement—

“Hai, Aniki.”

—before the man shamelessly landed soft, fleeting touches on the side of his face, a weird feeling brewing within Takahiro as he gets lost in those, dark orbs.

What is _he thinking?_

Why is he doing this?

Why is he so _rough and aggressive and dominant and violent_ whenever they’re on the sheets?

Why is he _gentle and caring_ when the deed is done, why is he treating Taka like some sort of precious porcelain like right now?

Taka’s brows furrowed in confusion. The man’s erratic actions, and his unreadable face is grating into his nerves, making him wary because there’s definitely something more sinister going on in that sick, twisted mind of his but…but at the same time…

_Do you treat every person you’ve fucked like this...?_

“Eat more,” Yamashita murmured, his long fingers tilting his chin before he planted a soft, chaste kiss on it. It was nothing like the passionate, burning ones— _the kind that made Taka gasped for air as the man ruthlessly plundered his mouth_ —they’ve shared, _forced_ on him, last night. It was fleeting, like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings and it makes his chest hurt in an unfamiliar manner.

What the hell?!

_What is the meaning of this…this...?_

“I’ll send more stuffs for you and you will have them,” his eyes narrowed, instantly pulling Taka out of his dazed stupor, “Even if I have to shoved them into your unit—,”

“You wouldn’t do that—,”

He smirked.

Taka sagged on the bed in defeat. Of course, _he could do that._ He could do everything, could have everything and Taka is an _idiot_ for actually thinking that he has some control over this man’s thoughts and actions.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He was sent out after that, Taka looking down during the entire elevator ride to the basement. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, even after Tomoya’s attempt to speak to him, because he feels like a prostitute all over again. Had some fuck the entire night, washed all the evidences away, and is now fleeing from the man’s unit before the sun rises.

The elevator looks slick and posh as fuck, all glass and metal and heavy carpet—and yet Taka couldn’t bring himself to look up and see his horrible reflection on the glass across him.

He doesn’t want to see himself right now, _or ever._

He doesn’t want to see how _low h_ e had become last night.

He just wants to go home, where it’s _safe_ , where _it’s warm_ , where _Hiro_ is—where he can finally sob and scream all the things that has been plaguing him the entire night.

_I wanna go home…_

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You could drop me here,” he said, voice cracking after the long silence that ensued between him and the seaweed head. Tomoya glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his brows furrowed—in what? Worry? _Pity?_

_Hah, as if!_

Taka wanted to scoff at that. He wonders how these men serving that asshole feel whenever they see Taka. He wonders how Tomoya felt when he saw him earlier, being cuddled by the otherwise cruel leader, his body bearing all the marks, all the evidence of the merciless tryst that occurred last night. He wonders if they felt guilt for bringing him into their Boss’ hands? For practically delivering his head _on a silver platter?_ He wonders if they could hear him scream, wail, and _beg_ ; he wonders if they could hear him plead for his freedom; he wonders if they hear all the lewd sounds coming from him and his body—he wonders on what they feel about him, getting forced into sexual submission over and over again by their superior.

_Were they troubled?_

_Remorseful?_

_Mortified?_

Or these events—Yamashita dragging some poor soul, or maybe not, because people would actually go down on their knees just to share a bed with him, that motherfucker—were so normal, so usual that they have been _immune_ to it?

Maybe…maybe that’s why they _won’t say a word_ , _won’t do a thing_ even if they’re perfectly aware that their boss is having his twisted way with him inside the car last night, or inside his bedroom for god knows how long…?

Taka felt his throat clenched painfully as that, especially when Tomoya just looked at him with now calm eyes. It’s like he’s assessing it his request is worth another session of arguments and distress. It took a moment before the seaweed head sighed, shook his head and stopped the car, a few meters away from their apartment building.

“Aniki would have my head for this…” he remorsefully said before he turned to glance at him, “I’ll just walk you to your unit, that’s better, na?”

Taka scowled, but nodded nonetheless. It’s not like he could really refuse that “choice” and it’s not like he could also outrun this ducker— _they’re yakuza, for fuck’s sake_ —and Taka is so exhausted that if Tomoya would offer to carry him on his back, he might just jump on it.

…

Emphasis on the word _“might.”_

Anyway, he hadn’t noticed that the yakuza has already got off the car and is now opening the door for him like a diligent butler. Taka yelped, almost hitting his head on the concrete road—well, he’s leaning on it, remember?!—if it’s not for Tomoya who caught his shoulder and support his body to stay upright.

“Gaah!!” Tomoya screeched, “What the hell, Taka-chan! Aniki would kill me if you got hurt in any way!”

Taka looked up at him with a _“are-you-fucking-kidding-me”_ kind of look, “Do I look like I give a fuck?!” he hissed, moving away to properly get out of the damn car, “Yamashita can have your seaweed head for all I care!”

_Besides, it’s your boss who’s always been hurting me!_

He huffed, straightened his new clothes— _I’m gonna shred this once I get home_ —before he started walking towards the direction of his house., Tomoya babbling behind him. The fresh cold air greeted his body as he took the path, the familiar site of their home and the trees and other structures around it hit him like a huge, grubby hands. It was still silent in the area, people would normally start waking up an hour after the sun rose, to do their stuffs. The road crunched under his shoes as his steps gradually went quicker, bigger—eager to come home and forget all the stuffs that happened tonight.

It feels like _forever,_ seriously. Like he has been caged and tortured _for days_ when it’s actually just been hours. He felt like he had screamed for weeks, his throat raw and sore, and with all the events that happened, Taka is so sure that he could sleep for a week to recuperate.

To redeem himself.

To redeem his job.

To redeem _his life._

_“—but he’ll be back before the end of the week…”_

Taka’s steps halted, when the deep voice of Yamashita filtered through his mind. The yakuza will be expecting him this week…and he will be used again…against his will, against his principle—before being thrown away like a ragdoll.

He stared at the closed door across him. He was so excited to go home that he failed to notice that he’s already in front of it, just a knock away from it.

_Like a useless toy…_

Something painful stabbed his chest at that, a painful lump forming into his throat as he eyed the old piece of wood, splinters and dents marring its surface. Hiroki is behind this door; his solace is just beyond this door but…but remembering all the shits he went through last night—but he suddenly felt that he doesn’t _deserve_ to be here anymore.

_Why bother to redeem myself when he would just crush it over and over again?_

He’s so dirty—corrupted— _tainted beyond recognition_ , and it’s all because of him—him—

…that _motherfucking son of a bitch!_

That cruel, arrogant, selfish, perverted, sick bastard!

_I…I hate him so much! I fucking hate him—_

“Is he…” he said, without even looking if the seaweed head is standing behind him or not, “Is he always like this to his…his a-affairs?” he asked, the words stuck at the back of his throat as he forced them out.

“No,” came the immediate response behind him, and Taka wanted to heave, to sob, to bang his head onto the walls because there’s those unfamiliar twinges in his heart again— _maddening, suffocating, aggravating_ , and most of all, confusing the hell out of his battered mind—, “He would always kick them out of his bed—,”

Taka can faintly remember the man _carefully_ untangling him form the sheets, warm hands caressing his limbs as he gently plucks him out of the bed and silently brought him to the posh bathroom—

“—and they will dress and get out of the unit after it—,”

Taka can feel the warm, sturdy chest against his back. The warm water sloshing around them as sleep and exhaustion threatened to claim his consciousness, silken hands doing wonders on his hair and scalp as the yakuza _dutifully_ bathed him—

“—and they will never show their faces ever again to Aniki~!” Tomoya cheekily ended, “So no, he’s not like this with everyone _. Only you_ , Taka-chan, he’s _only like that you_ —,”

_I hate you, I hate you so fucking much—_

Taka’s eyes squeezed shut as he forced himself to grab the know, his chest threatening to explode any moment from now with those indescribable feelings.

“Are they…his lovers,” he croaked out, earning a confused hum from the seaweed head, “Are they all still alive...?”

He dreaded the answer, but a part of him needs this—needs the _fact_ that he could be like them too, once the leader grows tired of him, he could be one of those faceless persons—casually thrown away, easily replaced in a blink of an eye—forgotten, _silenced._

He needs this…to tell himself not to give in, not to _hope,_ not to _fucking believe_ because in the end…in the end…

_No matter_ how gentle those touches are, _no matter_ how chaste those kisses are…

_No matter_ how soft, how soothing and comforting his words are after the deed…

_In the end…_

“Nope,” his breath hitched at the revelation, arms freezing, clutching the knob so fucking tight his knuckles were already turning white, “But you don’t have to be scared, for now, Taka-chan~!”

_For now._

Taka wanted to laugh at that.

For _now._

How about next week? How about _next month?_

Will he still be safe? Will _Hiroki_ still be safe?

Or will his fate be like those of the faceless persons, _used and killed_ after everything?

Taka bit his lip, muttered something like _“go fuck yourself,”_ before he pushed the door open—

_In the end, you’re still a mindless, heartless monster after all…_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Toru watched as the smoke from his cigarette billowed upwards, the burning tip seems like a beacon in that dark room, which was so warm, so stuffy, so alive just a few hours ago. The sun is rising, bathing the entire city of Tokyo with white, soft light as it slowly ascended on the skyline.

He wonders if Takahiro would love to see this view from the glass walls of his unit…

_But judging from how he whined about going home first thing after he fucked his brains out…maybe not…_

He glanced down at the phone on his hand, his fingers gliding across the smooth screen, dialing a familiar number of a person he doesn’t really want to see these days, before putting the device next to his ears.

The line rings once, twice, before someone finally picked it up.

“ _Ya-re, ya-re…_ ” came the condescending tone from the other line, “It’s so rare of you to call me, Toru. Did you bust a lung or something?”

Toru grimaced, wondering why did he even called this asshole. Talking to him, and imagining his ever-smiling face— _that hides mysteries, unfound bodies, and a shit-ton of plots and crimes_ —makes him want to just holler the damn phone onto the glass wall across him.

“No,” he gruffly answered, before taking a drag of his cigarette, “It’s not for me, this time.”

He can imagine the other’s face cock in confusion, his long, auburn fringe falling onto his face.

“ _Oh-ho-ho_?” he asked after a few minutes of silence, “The mighty Yamashita Toru is doing something for someone? How pretty is this lady, this time?”

A smirk curled at the corner of Toru’s lips at that. Lady? Takeru would have the shock of his life when he discovered that it’s another man they’re talking about.

“Hmmmm… _the prettiest_ I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled, the images of Takahiro wantonly looking up at him with glassy eyes, flushed cheeks and parted lips burning into his mind, “You’ll see in the gathering by the end of the week.”

“Hnnn…” the other yakuza made a hum of agreement before he clacked his tongue, “Alright, you’ve got me now. But this…whoever you want me to open up, would be enough to call the recent issues between our families quits, ne?”

Toru grunted a small, “Whatever,” before he ended the call, ignoring Satoh Takeru’s “and don’t forget to bring your girl!” in the background.

He tossed his phone on the bed. It has been a few hours since he last Takahiro, and yet his hands, his body, his entire being is already longing, already craving, already _desiring to devour him again and again._

Toru licked his lips.

By the end of this deal, Moriuchi Takahiro would be his— _mind, body and soul._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, Satoh Takeru is officially a part of this shit. Goddammit. I hope I can write him just as fine in the future chapters gaaaaah.
> 
> Please tell me what you think~! Thanks for reading!


	13. Caught Up in Little Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really happened in this chapter. And I apologize in advance if I couldn't portray Hiroki's character, I really know shit about him so gomen ne? Also, did I mentioned that Satoh-san would be appearing in next chapters? I did? COZ I FUCKING FORGOT THAT AND NOW WE HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL THE NEXT, NEXT ONE FOR HIS APPEARANCE. But there would be smut on the enxt chapter.  
> ...  
> ...  
> ...  
> ...  
> OMFG I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST SAID THAT.  
> Ahem.  
> Anyways, you could notice a small reference here, regarding that PRETTY fanart from Koneko-chan, even if it's not related in any forms to HTMHF.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is purely fictional and all the words and actions by the characters are all but a product of my imagination. There would be no way in hell that they would do these shits, so please don't sue me.

 Hiro sighed as he squeezed the wet towel before he put it back on his older brother’s forehead. His nii-chan has been burning up, since he went home a bit after the sunrise earlier. He looks so tired, _worn_ , and he refused to talk about what happened to the restaurant he’s working in last night. Hiro thought that it’s just natural, because it’s probably not easy to know that your working place has exploded because of a gas leak…but _still…_

Hiroki bit his lips as he glanced down at the feverish form of his brother. His nii-chan bundled himself up with blankets, not even trying to change his clothes—which looks new, by the way— _maybe it was lent to him by his friend?_ —before snoring into a restless sleep.

He told Hiro that they would talk later, after he had rested, and if it’s not for the vibrant scarlet high on his brother’s cheeks, he won’t even notice that he’s running a fever. And he hates that…this feeling of _helplessness_ , when his brother is getting sick after all the years he spent on taking care of him, of making sure that Hiroki would have a good life, for loving and being his guardian...

He hates this feeling— _wanting to do something but being unable to do it_ —especially when it’s about his brother.

A dull pain from within his chest sliced through his system

_No, no, not again._

Hiroki grasped his shirt-cladded chest as he desperately tried to ignore the pain, and the panic that’s slowly creeping into him.

_Nii-chan said that I should not think about those things…that I shouldn’t get myself worked up over some things…_

But this time, his strong, _reliable_ Nii-chan is…is…

Hiro gasped as the pain grew stronger, he abruptly stood up—watching as his brother’s face softly contorted, probably because of his fever or from bad dreams—walking backwards until his back hit the closed door of the room. He doesn’t want to give more burdens to him anymore, he doesn’t want to give more problems to his Nii-chan anymore…

_I need to be strong—_

Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes as the pain almost became unbearable—his heart palpitating beneath his chest— _loud and fast_ before abruptly going back into its normal pace, leaving Hiroki breathless and panting for air. He gulped, noticing that even if he’s practically _dying_ in the inside, even if he could hear the loud, maddening pace of his heart just a few seconds ago, the room remained as silent and peaceful as ever. His nii-chan doesn’t even stir—not that he wants him to, god knows how his nii-chan would be _a hundred times better_ if he’s not caring for someone like him all his life—and that made him grateful.

He must leave his Nii-chan so he could rest.

_That’s right,_ he sighed, feeling exhausted, his muscles screaming in pain and for some sleep _, this is nothing…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Since he already missed the first period, Hiroki decided to just skip school altogether. He knows that his brother won’t like it, but he really couldn’t just leave his Nii-chan with his condition. His fever had gone down, but he’s still sweating a lot and his face and the only visible portions of his neck were still red. He made sure that the towel is being replaced, wiping the burning skin, from time to time. His nii-chan had woken up twice, just to drink water and go to the toilet—he just patted his hair, ruffled it with his eyes glazed and almost _unseeing,_ before he rolled himself into the blankets again.

_He hasn’t eaten anything since he came home_ , Hiroki thought as he stirred the pot of porridge he’s making, _maybe he would try this when he wakes up tonight...?_

He was wondering what medicine to buy for his brother, when someone rang the doorbell. His brows furrowed as he lowered the heat, wiping his hands before padding towards the _genkan._

_This is weird._

They don’t have much of friends, and his Nii-chan rarely allow strangers in their home. They’re not even expecting some sort of delivery for today so…

He stopped at the _genkan,_ staring at the door as he pondered, _who’s beyond this door...?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Taka blearily opened his eyes, only to squeezed them shut again when the dim light from the bedside flooded his vision. His head hurts and his throat feels like someone had shoved a _shit-ton_ of nails and knives and pens and _everything sharp_ into it.

_What happened...?_

He scanned his surrounding, and for a moment, he thought that he was still in the bastard’s room— _bounded, splayed across the sheets with a raw throat and tears streaming down his cheeks_ —but no, he wasn’t. He’s in his room, in their unit, and thank fucking god for that, even if he’s not really sure how he ended up here in the first place.

Water _… I need water…_

He’s home, finally _safe,_ even if he’s probably burning up right now. But Taka couldn’t’ care less because he’s home and Hiro would be here and—

He gasped, shooting into a sitting position as he realized that yes, his brother is _here_ and that the younger Moriuchi could’ve seen the thousands of marks littering his body—

His eyes glanced down on the long sleeved turtle neck shirt he’s wearing. It’s still on, the clothes that the bastard had given him last night— _earlier, yesterday? I couldn’t really remember? Damn, how long was I asleep?!_ —and it’s still doing a marvelous job on covering the bites and hickies and bruises on his otherwise creamy skin.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he pushes the matted hair clinging on his face back, Hiro doesn’t have to see them… _and I would die first before I would scare the hell out of my brother’s mind!_

Speaking of brother, where is Hiro?

Taka pushed himself towards the edge of the bed, sparks shooting up to his spine as his bare feet made contact on the cold floor. His head is still throbbing but the urge, the need to see his brother is so great that he thought that he could climb a fucking mountain just for that.

He wobbled on his first step, good thing there’s this reliable wall suddenly appearing beside him to support his weak frame. His ass hurts, _by the way_ —like a dull ache whenever he moves—but this is _nothing_ compared to what he felt on the first night—

He clamped his mouth shut as he made his way towards the door of his room. The urge to vomit was so strong that he needed a few seconds to…stop himself from just hurling whatever the contents of his stomach is. He doesn’t want to remember that night, or any moments he’d spent with that yakuza. It’s full of anguish, full of pain and regrets, full of helplessness and cries and screams, his _vision_ full of that flaming red strands, those half-lidded orbs, that self-satisfied smirk; his _ears_ filled with the deep, rough baritone; his _senses_ overloading with the touches, the fingers caressing and probing and sliding, and that—

He pushed the door open, his chest heaving as he mentally kicked himself from remembering those parts—or any parts of that night, for that matter—because _what the fuck_ , here he is burning up with a fever, probably from emotional stress and physical fatigue, and he’s still thinking how the previous night unraveled tortuously.

_I don’t want to remember it—_

_Hiro—_

_Hiro—_

His senses were then assaulted by the smell of porridge being cooked, the warm aroma making his stomach churn painfully, whining to be fed, as his shoulders instantly relaxed at that. Hiroki is here, he thought as he padded towards the kitchen, _he’s here and he’s cooking something from me—_

The small, tired, longing smile instantly faded away when Taka found the small kitchen empty. Sure, there’s a pot of steaming porridge on the stove, the cooking utensils and ingredients neatly arrayed on the old, worn counter, but Hiroki is nowhere to be found.

_That’s weird…_

His brows furrowed, as he strained his ears for any sound or movement inside their small apartment unit—

“He’s sick?! Eh?!”

Taka froze at that, his hands started to visibly shake as the _familiar voice_ rang through his ears. It’s coming from the genkan, he’s in the genkan and—

“Ah, hai. May I know who you are, sir—,”

_And Hiroki is also there—goddammit!_

He turned, almost sliding on the floor—the abrupt movement causing his vision to grow hazy, dizziness doubling as he practically bolted towards the entrance.

“Damn—,” he hit his shoulder on a corner but he was too scared, too nervous and anxious to even pay attention to the pain blooming on it.

_They’re here and they’re talking to Hiroki—_

_No, no, never_ —they should never see each other, Hiroki should never meet them, talk to them, because that man— _that man_ would definitely, _could definitely_ use his youngest brother against him. He could take Hiroki away from him just to satisfy his burning lust and monstrosity and—

“I’m his friend,” Taka’s eyes widened in horror as he saw the familiar green mop of hair and the pristine black suit standing in front of his confused little brother, “I’m Tomoya—,”

“Hiroki!” he screeched, dashing towards the younger teen before he roughly grabbed his clothes to pull him away from the hyper-energetic yakuza. He shoved Hiroki back and stood in front of him, desperately trying to shield him away from Tomoya’s view.

“E-eh?!” Hiroki gasped behind him his nimble fingers instantly latching on his shaking arms, “Nii-chan? I thought you’re still sleeping! You shouldn’t move like that!”

Taka wanted to snap at his brother, to hush him because his head feels like it’s about to explode any damn moment, but he couldn’t. Hiroki is innocent, a huge contrast to what this man is— _to what Taka has become_ over the course of the night. So Taka desperately tried to regain a steady rhythm for breathing as he glanced up at the worried look on the yakuza’s face.

“What are you doing here?” he spat, gritting each word through clenched teeth. Hiroki fell silent behind him, his head whipping between him and the suit-cladded man in confusion.

“Nii-chan..?”

“I’m here to bring your brother’s medicine,” Tomoya said, raising a paper bag in front of them. Taka paled at that, _of course_ the bastard would know what type of medicine his brother would need. _Of course_ he would fiddle with Hiroki’s health history and _of-fucking-course_ , he would tempt Taka with the promise of full treatment for his brother.

He hated him, hate shim even more for turning him this weak and pathetic just because of some stupid medicines that could prolong his brother’s life.

_Stupid, stupid fucker!_

But then again, despite this deep-sated hatred he harbor for the man, he knows that they needed it. _Hiro needed it_ , but how could he explain this mess to his brother? How could he explain why a man wearing expensive-looking suit is now standing under their threshold and holing out a paper bag with a huge, gentle smile on his face?

“I—,” he started, his throat suddenly constricting at the shitty situation he’s currently into. He had never imagined, hoped, that this day would ever come, but hey, it’s probably the universe constantly fucking up his life, right?

“You left this in the house earlier,” Tomoya must have seen the conflicted and helpless look on his face, because he suddenly blurted that out— _which is not purely lies_ —, “So I drop by after work. This is important for you, right?” he asked, pushing the paper bag on his hands. Taka went speechless at that.

_Lies._

“Oh!” Hiroki perked up behind him, “So, Nii-chan stayed at your place that night? Thank you for allowing him to sleep in your place, I was so worried about him when I heard the news about his workplace!” to Taka’s horror, his younger brother even made a small bow of gratitude towards the other man—who didn’t even make any strange reaction at the mention of the restaurant that they just blew up last night.

He probably had mastered it—the ability to mask all of his emotions and expressions.

The ability _to kill and harm people without even flinching._

The ability to rape and make someone cry and scream and beg over and over again while laughing, basking on the pitiful sounds he made.

“Don’t mention it!” Tomoya grinned, waving his hands and shaking his head—his green hair bouncing wildly around him, “He’s a good friend and I thought that it’s safer for him to stay with me during the night. Though, I’m not aware that he’s…” Tomoya glanced at him in worry, his squinted eyes raking on his entire form, “…sick?”

_Don’t feed lies to my brother—_

_What do you want then? Do you want Tomoya to tell Hiroki where and how you spent the night, hmmm?_

_No, but this is—_

_Wrong? Then, pray tell me, Takahiro, did something right ever happened in your life, huh?_

“W-why,” he stammered out, as he faced his brother, “Why don’t you prepare some tea for my friend, Hiroki?” he asked, wincing at the bitter taste of those words on his tongue. Hiroki looked up at him in confusion, especially when he thrusted the paper bag into the younger’s arms, “We’ll just talk about some shits outside for a while, ne?”

“But you’re sick, Nii-chan—,”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, ruffling his brother’s hair as he gently smiled at him, “Just call us if the tea’s ready, ne?”

Hiroki looked up at him with wide eyes, and for a moment, Taka thought that his brother could see past through his lies, past through his smile—that Hiroki could see the _poor, broken and lying soul_ within him. But then, the youth just hesitantly nodded, cradling the paper bag into his chest, “Alright, just…just go back inside if you’re not feeling well, ne?” he then turned to Tomoya, “Thanks again, Tomoya-san, please wait for the tea, it’ll be ready soon!”

And then he dashed off into the kitchen again.

Taka watched his brother go with a smile on his face, and only when he’s sure that he’s out of the earshot, the smile was instantly replaced by a huge, displeased frown as he turned his attention towards the yakuza again.

“Now, _what the fuck_ are you doing here again?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The breeze is not that cold, but still feel like a cool balm on Taka’s heated cheeks. God knows how he wanted to go inside, and just…dump himself under the covers and sleep the day away. He wants to escape, wants to be swallowed up the never-ending darkness but—

“You should go to a hospital, Taka-chan,” Tomoya’s voice sliced through Taka’s thoughts, making him glance at the yakuza standing beside him. They’re out in the corridor, leaning on the rusty metal guard rails, as if it’s the most normal thing to do in the world.

“We don’t have the means to do that,” he spat, not really sure why he’s entertaining this idiot in the first place, “This is a one-time thing only, Tomoya. I don’t want to see your face ever again, especially if my brother is a t home—,”

“So, that mean I could drop the gifts when he’s not here?”

His burning glares were met by cunning eyes and smile.

“ _Mou,_ Taka-chan, you’re being an obstinate idiot, mou!” he sighed in exasperation, “Aniki gave some cash to you right? Why won’t you use that?”

Taka winced at that. Of course, Tomoya would know about that. The _entire world_ probably knows about how their Boss put a shit-ton of money after that fateful night. 

“Okay, let’s just forget about that, come on, I’ll bring you to a hospital and we’ll cover all the expenses—,”

“ _What is it to you_?” he snapped, his fingers gripping the iron bar so tightly as he desperately tried to reign in his voice. He wouldn’t want Hiroki to hear their fucked up conversations. “Why are you suddenly showing concern for me?”

He saw Tomoya flinched, his mouth opening before closing again as if he’s having an internal debate on what to do and say.

“You did _nothing nor say anything_ when he dragged me off that night,” he hissed, the tears springing out of his eyes as he regarded the man with so much hurt and feeling of betrayal, “You _did nothing_ when he was threatening me and my brother and all the people in the restaurant—,”

“Taka-chan—,”

“—and you _certainly did nothing_ when he did those hideous things to me, when I was screaming and hurting,” he bit his lip to prevent a full sob from escaping them, “—when he was forcing and _forcing_ himself into me, when your crazy boss is having his evil ways with me, so _why now?_ Why are you fussing over a simple fever, when you _could’ve save_ me from everything that ever happened to me, huh?!”

Why now?

_Why only now?_

Taka doesn’t have a clue on why he’s telling and asking this to the suit-wearing idiot. He’s that man’s subordinate for fuck’s sake! He’s supposed to be running away from him at full force, not like this—ranting and crying over the shitty things that he just went through. It’s odd, confusing, but somewhat relieving because now, he can finally say all the things he wanted to say, without the eminent fear of getting his ass torn into _pieces._

Uhm.

He heaved at that. Maybe it’s not the best analogy but damn if he actually gives a fuck anymore. He’s sick, _so give me a fucking break, mou!_

“Taka-chan, you _must_ understand,” Tomoya began, “We’re just doing our job—,”

“ _Job of what_?” he lowly said, glaring at the usually bubbly man who’s looking equally frustrated right now, “murdering people? Dragging innocent lives in your fucked up world?” his eyes narrowed, vision blurry as he gives scathing looks at him, “getting _whores_ for your boss—,”

Tomoya surged forward at that, grabbing both of his shoulders as he lightly shook him, “Don’t,” he said, startling Taka with the intensity of that single word, “Don’t let Aniki hear you calling yourself like that, Taka-chan.”

Taka growled at him as he shrugs off those hands from his shoulder, “Why _not?_ Isn’t it true anyways?!”

“Taka-chan—,”

His wide almond shaped eyes darted everywhere, making sure that Hiroki is nowhere nearby before he spoke, lowly but still with the same venom this time, “He fucked me _raw_ almost until morning, then he would send gifts, to woo me and to compensate for the fuckery he had done,” he said, making Tomoya groaned helplessly before him, looking as _uncomfortable_ as he can be, “Tell me, isn’t that what whores do? Get _fucked and get compensated_ for it—,”

“But whores _don’t_ get a second chance with him,” Tomoya grumbled, now standing close in front of him—and he had never looked so intimidating to Taka before—he looked so imposing, like he’s practically oozing this “ _stop talking or I will put a bullet to your pretty little head”_ aura from every pores of his being.

His mouth instantly clamped shut at that.

“—he doesn’t _pamper_ whores, nor _clean_ them up, and _dress_ them like he’s an obedient _butler_ ,” Tomoya’s eyes narrowed even more, if that’s even possible, “Our Leader _doesn’t_ bow, _doesn’t_ kneel, _doesn’t_ speak so gently to anyone—,”

Taka swallowed the painful lump in his throat at that. The _implications_ of Tomoya’s words, the idea of _having power_ over that seemingly untouchable yakuza is so confusing, so overwhelming and oh-so dangerous to his now fragile mind.

“—not to his father, not even to his brother whom he _kil—_ ,” Taka’s eyes widened at that, especially when Tomoya abruptly pulled away, running his fingers through his green-dyed locks before he regarded him again, “So, bottom line is, you must never regard yourself like that, Taka-chan because Aniki would _not take it so lightly_. Because if someone would call you like that in front of him, believe me, even if that’s Satoh-san—he’ll definitely make sure that that person would suffer a slow, _painful_ death.”

Taka felt at loss. Why is everyone asking him not to treat himself like a whore when it’s obvious that he’s one— _albeit reluctantly? Forced?_

“And if I hide this from Aniki,” Tomoya gulped in nervousness, “he would surely kill me—,”

“No! Don’t tell him!” he snapped moving forward to clutch at the man’s pristine clothes, “I—I don’t want to see him right now, right after what he just did! If…if he would see me like this he would…he would…”

_Forced you again and again,_ even if he’s burning sick of fever because that’s what their meetings are always about, right? Fucking. _And more fucking_ , until Taka faints due to exhaustion.

His entire body, mind and soul—heck, especially his _lips and ass_ is still not ready to have any more encounters with that man today! Or tomorrow! Or any other day of this week!

“But Taka-chaaaan,” he whined almost pitifully at him, “Aniki give strict orders that no harm must come to you—,”

Taka snorted, “but isn’t he the actual cause of this shit?”

“—in any form and if he knows that I purposely hid this fact from him…” he shrugged, and stared at him with dead-serious eyes, “he’s gonna castrate me. Or make me commit _seppuku_.”

Taka stared at him, silently waiting for the man to grin and tell him that it’s just a joke—but Tomoya’s solemn expression never budged—and the memories of how cold, how cruel that Yamashita-bastard could be flooded his mind.

_He’s not joking._

And Taka, for some unfathomable reason, knows that Tomoya would willingly do it— _take his own life_ —if their boss would ask him for it.

He licked his parched lips at that, wondering why Hiro is taking too long on making the damn tea _. Was he brewing for a hundred people?!_ Taka wanted to stop talking to this man, stop thinking how Tomoya’s death would stained his hand—

“D-don’t…” he said, voice cracking at the edges, “Don’t tell him please…And I won’t go to the hospital either, I’ll just…drink some medicine, alright? This will be gone, probably tomorrow or the next day, so please,” he watched, wide-eyed, as Tomoya groaned in defeat at his request, “Please don’t tell him...?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hiroki stared at the cups of green tea lying on their old low table. He has long done preparing them, but he couldn’t find the courage to interrupt his Nii-chan and his friend’s conversation outside. They we’re having intense discussion but their words were muffled and hard for Hiroki to understand.

_Are they fighting?_

He could hear something about his Nii-chan refusing to go to a hospital, but that was the end of it. The next words were spoken in low manner.

_I hope Nii-chan won’t get too stressed over this,_ he thought as he watched the steam rose from the cups, _he’s still not feeling well, mou…_

The door finally opened, revealing his very exhausted older brother. Hiroki jumped on his seat as he watched his Nii chan fiddling with the door, before he finally padded towards him. He tilted his head when those almond-shaped eyes he loved oh-so much subtly narrowed at the tea cups, as if they have _personally_ offended him.

“Are you alright, Nii-chan?”

His brother blinked, before looking at him—smiling as he took wobbly steps towards the old, worn couch—the only one they owned.

“I’m not,” his Nii-chan said before plopping down on the empty spot beside him, “But this will pass. I probably just need to take some rest, ne?”

_Rest from what?_

Hiroki nodded, but said nothing as his brother tiredly laid his head onto his lap. His fingers immediately went threading through curly locks, like what his Nii-chan has been doing since he was so young. His brother nuzzled his hand, eyes fluttering close as his breath slowly evened out.

_Oyasumi, Nii-chan…_

He might not be able to do all the stuffs his brother had done for him, but Hiro could lend his lap and attention and all the love he can give to his brother— _even just for a few hours._

_I’ll always be here when you wake up, ne..?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
>  Are you getting the death flags? No? Hmmm...
> 
>  
> 
> Please tell me what you think, tho~!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	14. Looking like Dolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reason's anniversary is coming up HOOOOO!!!!  
> ...  
> ...  
> ...  
> Anyways, I died writing this chapter. It has been so long since I wrote sex scenes and I can't remember how Toru talks in this story so I apologize in advance for that crappy motherfucker. I wrote this for about two days?? Coz I need to breath and cover my face--my extremely blushing face, mind you--and peek in the spaces between my fingers to see the words because I still can't believe that I am really continuing this story, like WTF? Where did the pure Justice--who wrote Kimi Wo Aishitai a year ago had gone to? Where?? Where is she now?!
> 
> Okay, sorry for that. Let's have this chapter, now. And Satoh-san would definitely appear in the next chapter which will be posted...uhhh when I get my mind and motivation on the right track.
> 
>  
> 
> Good luck on everyone doing their best in their jobs and schools and studies and dealing with the shit we call "life"! You all can do it gaaaaaah Ganbatte ne?
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing and every action and words of every character in this fanfiction is all but a product of my imagination. This is not real, and will never be, so please don't sue me.

Taka grumbled in irritation as he ducked into the _now familiar_ black car and begrudgingly plopped his ass down onto the back seat. It has been four days since that event and he’s now doing _better_ —free from colds and sneezes and the goddamned fever that, along with the nightmares about a certain redhead, had plagued his mind these past few nights.

Thanks to the sum of money Yamashita has given him, they managed to survive a few days without him working his ass off. Hiro is also doing well, his brother is not complaining about chest pains and shortage of breathing these past few days, and even if he’s being a huge _hypocrite_ for using the bastard’s money, he could never express his relief in their current situation.

He was so glad that he had enough money.

He was, for a _moment,_ happy and that probably triggered the _mother nature bitch_ because look what –or rather, _who_ —came knocking onto his door this afternoon.

“Hey, Taka-chan, good after—,”

He didn’t let Tomoya to finish his greetings because Taka had instantly slammed the door right onto his stupidly blinding bright face. What does he need now?! _I already accepted the medicines and fruits_ he’s been dropping since the first day of his sickness. The yakuza had stayed true to his words, and Taka has developed this _misplaced_ gratitude for that.

What is he even being thankful for?!

Because he managed to have more days without having that perverted asshole breathing down on his neck—and god forbids, on his _privates?!_

Ahem.

Anyways, his resolve on ignoring the green-haired yakuza was short-lived because he threatened that if Taka won’t come with him to _god-knows-where_ , it will be his Aniki who would come for him. And Taka doesn’t want _that Aniki_ going anywhere near his home, his sanctuary so he begrudgingly nodded—after a few minutes of reassurance that they won’t be going into his Boss’ penthouse today. Tonight.

Taka knows that he really shouldn’t believe anything that comes out of Tomoya’s—or any other yakuza’s, _really_ —mouth but the thought that the Yamashita bastard would come here, and risking the chance that he would meet Hiroki makes him agreed in the end.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“We’re not…” Taka gulped down as Tomoya started driving, “You’re not lying to me, right? Because I would kick you to death if you do!”

“ _Maa,_ Taka-chan, did I ever lied to you?” his glare flattered for a moment as he glanced at the smiling face of the idiot through the rearview mirror, “I told you that I won’t tell Aniki that you’re sick, and did you saw him trashing into your unit? Did you see my head floating in Tokyo bay?”

Taka wanted to kick the back of the driver’s seat because _what the hell_ , why is Tomoya giving him bizarre and gruesome mental images of a severed seaweed head floating on the dark waters of Tokyo Bay, but then he realized that his life is in Tomoya’s hand and kicking him will just send them to their immediate deaths or something.

“ _Maa…_ ” he grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest, “You didn’t…but if we ever ended up in the bastard’s place—,” he didn’t miss the way Tomoya’s eyes lit up in amusement at his rude address to their leader, “—I won’t ever, ever forgive you!”

_As if that matters_ , his mind said. _As if your opinion matters in the first place. They’re yakuza, Takahiro, when will you fucking learn? If their leader wanted them to torture you or drag you to god-knows-where, they would blindly obey it—whether you’ll gonna forgive them or not._

That realization sunk heavy at the pit of his stomach, so he just remained silent in the entire duration of the ride. There was really nothing to talk about anyway, and Tomoya’s smile is kinda blinding whenever he saw him looking at his face so Taka decided to just…tiredly glare at the heavily tinted glass pane.

_I hope this meeting would be over as soon as possible…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Wha—,” Taka’s feet immediately halted their steps when he realized where the fuck they were going. He should’ve seen it, the way the car maneuvered through the crowded streets and into the most-classy and high-end shopping district in Tokyo. If he did, he could’ve…run the moment Tomoya open the door for him like he’s some _lady_ or someshit—he glared at the yakuza for that, by the way—in front of a tailoring shop. And just by looking at the displays of men’s suit lining the glass wall, Taka instantly wonder how the fuck those clothes will cost.

Probably a hundred thousand yen or more, he thought. _This is not the place for me—_

He glanced at Tomoya, his eyes wide in worry and pleading, “I—I think I wanna go home—,”

“Nope~!” Tomoya slammed the door shut with a bright, bright smile on his place, “Aniki is already in there and he’s a busy man,” he said and grabbed Taka’s sweater cladded arms—gentle and as professional as ever, “he doesn’t’ really want to be waiting, ne?”

“No!” he cried, stomping and trying to pry the man’s hands off his arms, “Why the fuck would he even bring me here? I don’t—,”

“Relax, Taka-chan,” Tomoya grinned down at him, making him swallowed hard in fear, “You’re just getting clothes for the party on the weekends~!”

P-party?!

_Who said that I was going to a party—_

He was so shell-shocked out of his dimwitted mind and the yakuza took advantage of that as he practically dragged him into the shop. Taka was in a daze, wracking his brain for any moments that he had agreed coming to party and—

* * *

 

_“Just come whenever I ask for you, ne?"_

_Taka groggily nodded, muttering a soft "I wanna go home..." again before completely passing out on him again._

* * *

 

 

 

 

Fuck _fuck **fuck** —_

Just as he was about to really dash the fuck off that high-end shop, he immediately spotted the Yakuza leader in one corner of the huge room. No one can really miss that flaming hair, heck, Taka could be standing a _mile away_ and he’s sure that he could still see that bright magenta hair.

…

Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating but the point is, the yakuza can easily attract anyone’s attention even without doing anything. Like right now. The man is busy tapping on his phone, his heavily-lidded eyes looking more bored than usual. He’s cradling his chin with a hand propped on his crossed legs. He looks so fucking stunning, like a model of expensive suits sitting on a plush chair instead of a cold-blooded murderer. Maybe that’s also the exact reason why flocks of sales representatives are around him, eyes wide and lips pulled into the sweetest smile Taka had _only dreamt_ of receiving.

Why would girls bat their eyelashes for someone who’s _broke and average-looking man_ like him?

_Heh…_

A small pang of jealousy sliced through his heart at that—whether it’s jealousy of the stares the man is receiving or because there’s a lot of pretty girls surrounding the yakuza itself, Taka really don’t know. And he doesn’t give a flying fuck either, because he should focus on more important things like running away—

_This is your chance!_

_Run the fuck away while he’s still not looking—_

Half-lidded eyes glanced up to see him—as if he knows, as if he _feels_ that Taka was standing there—and _god,_ a shiver run down his spine when the ever-bored eyes suddenly glinted in something akin to relief and smugness just by the mere sight of his trembling form. A self-satisfied smile swiftly formed on those thin lips as the man stood up, pocketing his phone, as he silently strode towards them—ignoring the disappointed and curious looks on the pretty girls’ faces.

Taka felt his heart lurched at that.

_What the fuck._

Why is his heart skipping beats just by seeing that asshole? It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He should be scared for his life, running to save himself from the evil clutches of this obsessive asshole not… _not…_

He felt something painful formed into his throat as he meets those gazes head on. Yamashita is walking gracefully towards him, like a predator intimidating his poor, _poor_ prey and Taka was left standing there and watching him with wide disbelieving eyes. Those dark orbs never left his, and it feels like at that moment, the yakuza’s attention and entire being is focused on him— _on Takahiro alone._

It was magical.

It was _maddening._

It was flattering.

It was _frightening._

_It was everything that he never ever wanted to feel—_

“You really took your damn sweet time, huh?”

His head automatically snapped up towards the source of that baritone. He was already there, standing just a foot away from him. His face is still as annoying as ever, making Taka scowl even with their close proximity—even if he’s just practically a foot away from his possible death.

“I—,” he licked his lips in nervousness, wincing when he noticed how those intense eyes followed the movement of his tongue, “I wasn’t informed that I need to go here.”

“So, if I informed you beforehand, you’re gonna come without a fuss...?”

He glared up at him, making Tomoya gasp beside him.

He chuckled, making the girls behind them practically swoon. Taka just intensify his glare at the man.

“You really should stop giving Tomoya a hard time,” he said before a hand grabbed his shoulder and forced him to face the sales ladies, “Anyway, let’s get you measured for the suit. You’ll be needing them for the Saturday gathering—,”

Taka was hyperaware of the hand resting on his shoulders—thinking that this is probably the first time that the man touched him without anyone of them getting naked—that he took a few more seconds before the yakuza’s words had sank into his mind.

“What—,” he looked up at man guiding him towards the couch, “I don’t need a suit!” he hissed, “I’m not even going to whatever party you’re hosting— _ite—_!”

He bit down on his lower lip when the hand gripped his shoulder tightly. He warily looked over the man’s face hovering above his shoulders. The smirk was still plastered on his perfectly sculpted lips but his eyes—damn those dark, burning eyes—were glinting with so much threat and promises of _punishments_ as he regarded him a false happy look.

_H-he was smiling just a few seconds ago—_

“Oh, you little kitten,” he taunted, his deep voice was directly spoken to Taka’s left ear, “You did promise that you’ll cooperate right? Or shall we drag your brother here so he can see you—,”

“You fucking—,” he snarled and was about to slap Yamashita’s face but he gave him a stern look and Taka was reduced to a whimpering, shaking, frightened mess. They were in public—and that fact doesn’t even bother the yakuza, and it scared Taka that the red-head might pull the same shit he did in the restaurant last week.

_No, no, never again._

“I—I—,” he stuttered, gaze lowering to stare at their shoes. The man is wearing a slick black leather one while Taka’s feet were garbed with worn out sneakers. What an irony. He’s sure that if it wasn’t for the yakuza, the staff won’t hesitate to kick his broke ass out of their shop because this whole get up is screaming _“hobo”_ at the moment. It’s funny how just by looking at their shoes, Taka can feel the vast difference between the world the two of them are living in.

_I’m not supposed to be here…_

Surely there’s no way that this person would keep him longer, right?

He’s just a penniless, jobless _and good for nothing_ man at the moment. No one would want him, especially after he’s been tainted and used _over and over again_. Heh, if he’s lucky, he might live for a few more months before this asshole would dispose him like what he did to his previous lovers.

That would be nice, if it wasn’t for the fact that he needs to be alive for Hiroki.

_Even just for Hiroki—_

“Or we can do this in an easier way,” that perked him out of his depressive trance as the man leaned even closer, until Taka could practically feel his lips mumbling the words against his ear, “Maybe I should just take your measurements, hmmm?”

Taka’s face heated up in alarming rate at that. His eyes widened the size of saucers, praying that the ground would just open up and swallow him whole because he knows that everyone is looking at them—

“—strip you down, bare you naked, hmmm?” he said and Takahiro’s body instantly— _traitorously_ —trembled under that rough, _rough_ voice, “would you prefer that, Takahiro...?”

Taka opened his mouth to say something but suddenly eh was back at the man’s penthouse, standing in front of the man who’s sitting on his hugeass bed— _naked as the day he was born_. His entire body is flushed in pretty pink, the man’s touch leaving a burning sensation wherever it landed and Taka couldn’t remain standing still—squirming under those fluttering touches and smoldering gazes—

“O-of course, not!” he said, stepping away from the man. He’s sure that his face is as bright as a tomato right now, his pupils were also probably blown dark as he panted—glaring at the man with all the strength he can muster. “Let’s just…just do this the normal way!”

Gah, how he hates that amused smirk from the red-head!

_It’s so infuriating, mou!_

“Whatever you want,” he nodded to the sales lady who immediately scrambled upon his unspoken command—taking Taka towards another door—

“This way, please—,”

“W-wait—,” he glanced back at the man—who was hungrily ogling his behind—for some kind of help because god knows what these girls would do to him, but seeing that he’s more interested in eyeing his ass, Taka decided that he would just do his best to fend for himself. He huffed as he obediently followed the ladies to the next room, all of them talking at once about sizes and fabrics and shoes while all Taka had ever wanted is to get out of that fucking shop as soon as possible.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“He looks thinner.”

Tomoya flinched, shifting from one foot to another when Toru commented on his little Takahiro’s frame. He had memorized it all—every curves, every rippling of muscle against his hands—the size of his waist, the suppleness of his thighs and legs—he had known it all, so he could easily tell if the younger man lost or gain some weight.

“Uhm,” Tomoya scratched the back of his head under Toru’s scrutiny. _He’s hiding something from me._ “Maybe it’s just because of stress, Aniki?”

He stared at his subordinate. He was obviously lying and if he wasn’t just one of his closest friend, Toru would not hesitate to pull the gun under his coat and put a bullet to the older man’s head. He couldn’t understand why Tomoya is even trying to hide things from him even if the green-haired man knows that it’s impossible to lie in front of him.

“You…” Tomoya stammered, his eyes frantically darting towards the door where Taka had disappeared into, “You weren’t really that nice to the boy, you know?”

He narrowed his eyes at that.

_Since when_ did Tomoya learned to voice out his thoughts about the things he’s been doing to Takahiro? And more importantly, _since when_ did he thought that it would be nice to spout obvious lies to your leader? The head of the clan you’re serving until the day of your death?

Tomoya knows better than that. Ryota and his royalty were the fiercest—and Toru had trusted them to cover his back even amidst the volley of bullets so what made his most-trusted person disobeyed his words…?

Tomoya’s eyes glanced at the door again.

_Oh._

Toru arched a brow at that unconscious gesture. _So, he had something to do with this, huh...?_

“What was he hiding?” Toru pressed, eyes dark and fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. He doesn’t really want to be deceived by anyone—much less by his people and the pet he favors at the moment, “What did Takahiro asked of you?”

“Uhm—,” Tomoya tried shaking his head and Toru is already reaching for his gun. He will not allow this—any form of insubordination for that matter because that could cost him his life, his empire, his everything—, “Taka-chan don’t want me to tell you so—,”

“So you thought that it’s fine to hide it from me?” he lowly said as he stepped towards the older man, ignoring how everyone seemed to scampered away from the suit-wearing man in the middle of the shop. He moved closer until they’re practically nose to nose, until he can see the look of pure fear—and a hint of determination—on Tomoya’s eyes, “From me, Tomoya? Of all people?”

To his surprise, Tomoya didn’t backed down.

“I _promised_ him, Boss,” he growled, standing his ground, “And I would never spill it even if _you kill_ me. Once we promised, we never break it, or else, death would be the payment, right?”

_Huh, such irony_. He really should be proud of his men, loyal to their principles and words till the end.

“Boss,” he heard Ryota worriedly said beside him, “What’s happening...? Tomo-kun..?”

His eyes narrowed into slits. He knows that Tomoya would choose to be shot to death rather than spilling whatever Takahiro is hiding from it. He would have to back down on this, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll let the man off for disobeying him.

He stepped back, “Bring him to the warehouse,” he muttered, making the two flinched, yet no one said anything. They all know where and what the _warehouse_ is for—all their kinds who thought that it would be easy to sneak out shipments and money from the organization without them finding out were brought to the warehouse.

_They never leave alive._

The two of them knows what will happen to Tomoya yet no one contested his words. It’s the Leader’s judgment after all.

“Alright,” Tomoya sighed before bowing to him—waist-deep, as sign of great gratitude or apology—, “It’s been a pleasure serving you, Aniki. Thank you for every— _everything_ —,” his voice cracked a bit, but Toru’s mask of indifference didn’t falter. His cold eyes regarded the man with practiced defiance.

“Dismissed.”

Toru watched as Ryota guided the defeated yakuza out of the shop. He would hate to lose one of his most important person but it has to be done. There’s no place for mistrust and lack of loyalty in this world. It’s a weakness he’s not gonna commit.

Flashes of his memories flooded his mind. Tomoya has been there as far as he can remember, helping him to reach the top—the place where he is right now. He was like an older brother to him, a family _more than his own blood and flesh_. He had trusted him with his life.

But it was a weakness.

And Toru refused to succumb to that.

_Saa…_

His eyes then glanced towards the room.

_Time to know what’s worth Tomoya’s life, Takahiro…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Taka sighed as he shrugged off the coat that was used to find his measurements.

_Damn, this sucks…I hope that Tomoya could drive me to a park where there’s ice cream after all this shit…_

He’s still wearing the entire getup, minus the dark coat and he was just starting to unbutton the black undershirt when the door of the extravagantly spacious dressing room slammed open. Taka was startled, looking at the mirror just to see the red-head entering the room. His eyes were dark, mouth pulled down in a frown and what, is that a gun on his hand—

_Holy fuck, don’t tell me he went psycho on the people outside again!?_

—his hands froze, hovering above the buttons, as he watched as the man barked an order for everyone to get the fuck out. The ladies dashed away, probably in fear for their lives because that’s what Taka would do if he saw some scary-looking man wielding a fucking gun in the room.

“What—,” he tried to speak but the man is already standing behind him, his intense eyes boring holes at his reflection, “What do you— _ah!_ ”

Taka felt all air leave his lungs when the bastard shoved him forward—slamming him face-first on the floor to ceiling mirror across them.

_The fu_ —

“That hurts!” he hissed, facing sideways to glare at the man who’s looking at him with those intense, crazed eyes again. What the heck happened outside? _Why is he suddenly attacking me? I followed his instructions, right? Or did he get mad coz I scowled all the time while trying to fit those clothes...?_

Taka wanted to laugh at his train of thoughts. When did he became so scared of this man? Jesus fucking—

He gasped when he felt a pair of hands sliding on his sides. His eyes growing wide as he felt the man prop his chin on his shoulder, a shiver running down his spine when Yamashita nosed the side of his neck.

_Don’t tell me you—_

“I—No—,”

“You’re hiding something,” the man drawled out behind him, “And you even asked my own men to hide it from me. What is it?”

Taka couldn’t answer right away because he can feel the man’s warm, broad shoulders and chest flushed behind him, he can feel those fingers— _where did his gun went to_ —sliding and caressing his sides in a soothing manner, he can feel his moist breath at the column of his neck, and most of all, he can feel that…that fucking bulged poking onto his slacks-cladded ass—

_You fucking pervert—_

But just as he was about to holler profanities at the man currently pinning him on the fucking glass, he suddenly realized the implications of the leader’s words. What...? He knows about the secret? But—but _Tomoya promised—_

His brows furrowed in confusion. _Was he wrong_ to trust Tomoya in the first place? _Was he wrong_ to assume and believe that the seaweed head is different from this motherfucking perverted asshole? Was he—

_But Tomoya promised—_

His breath hitched at the conclusion he’s reaching. What if Tomoya has bene lying to him? Luring him with sweet smiles and promises? What if he’s planning this right from the start, enjoying the thought that he would be _ruthlessly punished_ when the leader would found out about him hiding the fact that he was sick a few days ago? _Lies, lies—_

Never trust a yakuza.

_Lies, lies! All of you are damn liars!_

Tears welled in the corner of his eyes at the thought that Tomoya had betrayed him. For a moment, he thought that he could be different, if just for a little bit—that he would not be the same as their leader. That he could be _humane_ as possible, but no. big fucking no—

“D-did,” he lisped, desperately trying to prevent the tears from falling, his breath fogging the glass his face is currently leaning on to, “Did Tomoya sold me out...?”

_Of course he did. If not, then why would be the bastard going the fuck at your throat?_

He felt the man hum before responding, “Unfortunately, no—,”

He felt himself stiffen at that.

“—he was tight-lipped as fuck, and even if he was sentenced to die, he won’t tell me—,”

“Die?!” Taka started to struggle for real at that word, “What the fuck?! H-he’s your subordinate! He’s…he’s your friend, right?!”

His attempts were futile, and the man seemed to be fed up from all the trashing he’s making because he suddenly grabbed his jaw and forced him to look away, exposing his throat to this…this… _heartless_ motherfucker—

“He is,” Yamashita mumbled, one of his hand pulling his collar open to reveal the tender skin where his neck meets his shoulder, “He’s my most loyal man and I wonder how you managed to turn him against me—,”

“I didn’t—,” his eyes widened at the sudden thought that crossed his mind, “Y-you’re gonna kill hi— _ahn_ —im..?” he whimpered when the man started to suck on his skin. The marks he left there were just starting to fade and here he is, sucking and biting and licking as if he fucking owned it again. Taka wanted to hysterically laughed at his current predicament, so much for not going into the bastard’s unit!

“But don’t worry,” he mumbled against his flustered flesh, eyes looking up at him in the mirror, “You won’t see him ever again so spill it out—,”

“N-no!” he snapped, his mind swirling as the images of a happy, grinning Tomoya. Tomoya who was more than happy to stand across his threshold, giving out the things that this crazy man had sent for him. Tomoya who’s laughter and giggles can make any sane man cackle like a lunatic too. Tomoya who was the first one to show mercy, the first one to show concern for someone like him—Tomoya who had promised to keep that little secret—

_And he did._

And now he’s gonna get _killed._

_Because of me—_

“D-don’t!” tears rolled down his scarlet cheeks as he desperately tried to look down on the man who’s feasting on his creamy shoulder, “Don’t kill him _please_ …” he mumbled, whimpered, _begged_ —because that’s all he can do against this murdering son of a bitch. He had killed his lovers in the past and now he’s gonna kill one of his closest friends and god knows what he can do to Taka once he’s over with him. “I was just…” he rambled on, ignoring how Yamashita is looking up at his messy reflection, “I was down with a fever after I went home…and I don’t want you to know about it so…so I asked h-him,” he hiccupped, tremors running down his frame as he sobbed in distress and desperation, “…he didn’t do anything wrong so—,”

A pained breath escaped his lips when the man harshly pulled his hair, his head arching back and exposing more of his flesh to this greedy, greedy man.

“He went against _me_ , Takahiro,” he said, voice laced with threats—a huge contrast with the gentle caresses on his burning skin, “That alone is wrong— _you could’ve died_ —and that is already punishable by death—,”

_Can’t they fucking think like they’re not serial killers, even just for a second?!_

“I—I won’t allow it!” he said, as he swallowed hard. Surely…surely he can do something...? maybe…maybe if he would offer…

_No, no, don’t even think of doing that—_

_But Tomoya’s life is on the line—_

_—so what? He’s also the reason why you ended up in this fucked up situation, remember?_

_—b-but he was just fulfilling his promise—_

_—Ah, Takahiro, Takahiro, how dumb and self-less can you be?_

_I…I just don’t want to see any more people dying because of me…I don’t want…_

“You don’t have any rights to order me around,” Yamashita said as he peered up at him, eyes partly hidden by the maroon tresses that fell on his forehead, “…besides, since when did you feel any sympathy for _people like us...?”_

That’s right. He hated the yakuza with so much passion, but still…Tomoya is…

“I s-still hate you,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut at the pain on his scalp, “But I don’t…don’t want Tomoya to…to…”

He felt the red-head’s tongue lapping at his bruised skin for a moment before the warmth and sturdy wall of expensive suit and muscles behind him suddenly vanished. Wha—his eyes flew open, searching as the man took a few step back, humming in contemplation as he shamelessly eyed Taka’s disheveled form. He shakily moved away from the mirror, watching the man’s expressions on the mirror with wary eyes.

But damn the bastard has really one hell of a poker face, huh?

“You would good look in a dark suit,” he said—voice heavy and thick, and Taka was left confused because one moment the man is talking about killing his closest comrade and now he’s complimenting how Taka would look good in a suit. What the actual fuck? Can this conversation be more fucked up?

_Apparently yes_ , because after an appraising nod, Yamashita stared directly at him before he ordered, “Strip, and I’ll consider.”

…

…

…

“Ha— _ha…_ ” Taka’s mouth parted as a disbelieving chuckle erupted from his throat, “ _ahahahahaha!!!”_ he hysterically laughed as he stared at the ever-serious face of the red-head bastard. Surely he knows that they’re in a public place, huh? Surely this asshole is not that of an idiot to not realize that there’s a shit-ton of security cameras installed practically in every corner of this shop? Surely, he doesn’t mean…that…

Heavily-lidded eyes continued gazing at him and Taka was scared that those dark eyes would bore a hole right through his fucking bones if he continued on staring— _waiting, beckoning_ —at him like that.

“ha… _ha…_ ” his laughter gradually faded into nothingness as he sizes up the seriousness of the man’s orders. Well, he looks so fucking dead serious, dammit! “A-are you fucking kidding me?!”

“I’m not kidding you when I told you that Tomoya would have to die—,”

“Well, fuck you!” he screeched as he backed away from this perverted son of a bitch, “Fuck you! He’s your comrade and he was so fucking loyal to you, you dipshit!” he ranted out, cringing when his back went flat on the mirror he was facing earlier, “He would drag someone _for you_ to rape, someone _for you_ to corrupt and he would as hell _kill and die for you_ , and now you’re throwing him away just because of a secret?! Are you that immature, you rotten piece of shit?!”

_Ah, I must be feeling suicidal today_ , Taka thought when the man’s brows knitted in displeasure.

“He didn’t…he doesn’t deserve to die…just…” Taka gulped, swallowing the screams and sobs that were about to tear from his quivering lips, “…just because of that…how can you… _how can you…?”_

The motherfucker looked bored, keeping calm and composed even if Taka is already losing all of his shits and screaming profanities at him. He then glanced on his wrist watch, “Time is ticking by, Takahiro. Are we gonna do this or what—,”

“I’m not going to strip, you fucking—,”

“Fine,” he hissed before he fished out his phone. Taka watched in horror as he dialed some number, and put the gadget near his ear, “Ryota. Are you in the warehouse—,”

“F-fu—!” Taka screeched as he scrambled to unbuckle the belt wrapped around his hips with shaking hands. He cried, tears messily falling from his eyes, dropping on the floor as fumbled with the buckle, all while cursing and cussing the redhead with so much passion the pope would weep for days, “I hate you, I hate you, _I hate y-you_ —,” he chanted, broken as he zipped the slacks down, allowing it to fall on his ankles in a swift motion.

The leader has long abandoned the call, watching him as he wobbled out of the pants—standing with just the long undershirt and his boxers protecting what’s that left of his privacy.

_But he had seen it all already, remember?_

He cried even harder, as he started to pull down his boxers—his hands shaking like fuck—as the fabric slid down his thighs, knees and legs, until he stepped out of it, as it joined the pool of slacks on the polished wooden floor. He can feel the man’s burning gaze, tracing the path his boxers had traversed onto his heavily flushed skin.

“I h-hate you…” he continued sobbing as he started to undo the button of the shirt. He hated this…this feeling of helplessness under those smoldering gaze. He hated how weak he is, how _ready he is to strip and get naked_ for the safety of other people. Sometimes…sometimes he wished that he was just like them—like these yakuza— _cunning, uncaring, not giving a shit_ even if someone would die for them, not giving a flying fuck even if they’re hurting others—because surely, that would be easier _? Easier than spreading your legs, offering yourself in exchange of someone else’s life...?_

But no!

He was born like this—weak and easy to succumb to blackmails because he cared for people—even for the person who had something to do with his fall, with his rape, and probably his death in the future|! And god damn it, he was ready to get fucked in a dressing room just to save that person life!

How…

_How fucked up is that!?_

And how fucked up is Taka’s mind?!

He froze when a hand grabbed his own trembling ones, even before he could make it to the last three buttons. He can’t really see his damn face—and he doesn’t want to, anyways—with his blurry vision as his hands automatically halted their attempts to complete strip himself off.

The hand then leisurely trailed a path up towards his chest, fingers splaying on his collarbone, lingering on the aching marks on his shoulder—where the bastard bit him earlier—until those long fingers rested on his chin, lifting it up to expose his tear-streaked and burning in humiliation face.

“Look at you,” he mumbled as his thumbs traced the tear tracks on his cheeks, wiping the unshed tears from the rim of his eyes in a gentle, almost-loving manner, “…so broken, so obedient…so fucking _beautiful_ …”

Taka wanted to hurl his breakfast on this man’s face. But he didn’t because his face was so busy blushing like he’s a damn virgin.

“I-I—,” he started, hands gripping the man’s sculpted arms, “P-promise me first,” he said with his trembling voice, “P-promise me that you’ll spare him...? That you won’t kill him...?”

Taka hated how desperate his voice is, but it was too late. He was already ruined anyway, so what’s another _fuck_ to add on his demise?

With his hazy vision, Taka could see how the man’s lips curl into a sly smile before he nodded, his fingers threading through Taka’s tousled curls in false reassurance, “I promise—,”

“Promise me and _mean it_ , you bastard!” he screeched as he pried those arms away, “Call that Ryota and tell him to let go of Tomoya! Call him!” he barked, not caring if it’s Yamashita Toru he’s been yelling at. Sure enough, the Boss instantly went all glaring at him. They sized up each other for a moment, gauging their determination and intent and Taka was so not gonna back down.

He would get _down and dirty_ , sure. But he won’t do it for free.

He would take—take something from this mighty yakuza—in exchange of his body. That’s just fair, right? After all, _that’s what whores do, right?_

“You really have the guts to order me around, huh?” Yamashita spat before he took out his phone again. Taka watched his movements and listened to their conversations in silence, his knees wobbling and his hands fisting the hem of the shirt to cover his privates from further scrutiny.

“But you would do it anyway…” he tiredly mumbled as he waited for the man to finish talking and giving orders. Taka gulped, mentally preparing himself for what’s to come. Damn. Can he even have prepared for something like that?

“You’re getting cheeky,” his head snapped towards the leader, realizing that he just ended the call and is now looking at him with the familiar hunger glinting in his eyes, “…and cheeky brats should be punished…”

Taka swallowed as hands gripped his shoulders— _tight_ —before he felt himself getting maneuvered to face the damn mirror. He was startled to see his face, flushed and red and cheeks moist. His eyes were puffy, lips quivering as his hair matted on his face and forehead.

What a debauched look.

What a _disgusting_ look.

“Look at you,” his eyes were drawn towards the source of that thick voice. Yamashita is peering over his right shoulder, his hands on either side of his waist, tracing lazy patterns over the shirt-cladded skin. Taka felt warm, hot, even, “You’re so gorgeous, don’t you think so?”

Taka wanted to laugh at that. He was ruined, yes, tainted and dirtied—but gorgeous? Maybe this bastard needs to have his eye checked?

“A-am not—,” he stilled when he felt those fingers dropped down, sliding across his thighs and moving up to rest on his naked stomach, it stayed there for a moment, and Taka held his breath because if he would slide down, the yakuza would feel Taka’s…uhm… _you know_ …reacting to those unwanted touches?!

No, no—he tried to squirmed away, but Yamashita won’t have any of it. Instead, he caged Taka’s jaws with a hand as he peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses on his shoulders and Taka was left to watch it all with wide, horrified eyes.

_No, no, not this—_

“You were sick, you said?” he muttered after nipping on his skin. Taka couldn’t form a proper reply as his mind went lost with the tantalizing touches on his abdomen, the cursed hand slowly— _agonizingly slowly_ trailing down and down— making Taka tremble. With what? Fear? Trauma? Anticipation? Impatience? _Desire?_

_No, no, that can’t be—_

He couldn’t be—

“Did I fucked you _too hard_ , last time, hmmm?” he asked, pressing a tender kiss on Taka’s cheeks as he casually propped his chin on his still clothed shoulders— _eyes, dark and hungry and lustful_ —oh so, predatory—and just watched as Taka’s own almond-shaped orbs gradually went glassy as he weakly fight against the intruding hand—, “Were you able to _properly_ walk? Can you still feel me moving inside you,” Taka tried to tear his gaze away from their reflection on the mirror but the man jerked it back in place, making him whimper in pain, “plundering and claiming you, long after we have parted ways, hmmm, my _pretty little Taka...?”_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The mirror where Taka’s face is resting is fogging with every breath he takes. He was bent over, hands splayed on the cold surface, as the bastard relentlessly pounded from behind. He was standing on his toes, desperately trying to not succumb to the intense thrusting into his body. He trembles, quakes of pleasures and pain mingled into his brain, shooting down his spine down to his aching erection—which the man wrapped a fucking neck tie around it by the way. He couldn’t cum and it was frustrating, even _more frustrating_ than the fact that he had long stopped struggling and fighting off the larger body that was practically draped over his back.

_What…how…_

He couldn’t remember how long they have been here—it was hot, Taka’s skin is burning hot especially to the spots where the redhead yakuza left marks, trailed his fingers and dug his nails on his hips. Taka groaned when the man lapped at his nape, before biting on it for god knows how many times already that day.

“Ha... _enough…_?” he gasped, but was just answered by the sharp snapping of hips into his backside, the lewd sounds of skin smacking against skin filling his ears. _Haven’t you had enough?_ Taka just wanted to cum so badly. His knees are getting weaker with every push, the air in his lungs getting knocked out every time the man would pull before slamming right back home with a merciless rhythm and Taka’s body was helplessly rocking back and forth with every harsh movement.

“Not yet.”

Damn the man for sounding so composed when Taka’s here being wrecked into fucking pieces. He grunted trying to pull his abused ass away, but the man just tightened his hold onto his hips, stilling it on its place, almost lifting his feet of the ground as he pistoned into his depths— _deeper and deeper, over and over again_ until Taka is cursing all the gods he knows, this perverted son of a bitch and the fucking neck tie that was tightly wrapped around his pink little cock—

_I need to…need to…_

He squeezed his eyes shut at the desperate need for release. He couldn’t take this anymore. The pain and pleasure are mingling in his brain, turning his mind into a poodle of heat and lust and desire and burning need to just go over the edge and have this over. He couldn’t even remember why he had volunteered on bending over for this man, couldn’t even remember how he ended up in this cursed, stuffy place that reeks of sweat and sex—all that matters now is the burning sensation down there, inside and out, everywhere and the overwhelming presence of the larger man—

The man was saying something but Taka’s consciousness had already drifted—seeking the mind-blowing release that he had in that dark unit— _want…want…I want…_

His intense eyes, sinful lips and deep, rough voice—

“ _Ahh_!” he screeched when a hand found his matted hair to grab it and forced him to arch back, “H-hurts…!”

“I said look at it!” he growled behind him. Look at what? Taka confusedly glanced at the yakuza, his eyes flickering on the slightly unbuttoned undershirt where the roaring head of the dragon tattoo was peeking. It was scary as usual, but this time, Taka had this urge to run his fingers on it—feel the uneven skin under the pads of his fingertips, the raised inks on the otherwise pale as the motherfucking snow skin—no matter how fucked up that sounds.

_Goddammit,_ he was supposed to be _stabbing this man to death,_ not caressing his damn tattoos!

His vision was then forced to be filled with the lewd sight of his aching cock slapping against his thighs, as he watched the man’s hard shaft rammed and rammed into his ass. There were liquids trailing down his quivering legs—which were gonna give out any moment with the sheer intensity of the fucking he’s getting at the moment.

“I d-don’t—,” he sobbed, not really wanting to see how his hole seemed to devoured the man’s cock, how his walls clenched and seemed to suck the man into him deeper and further, not wanting to see his body was rendered useless, like a rag doll that was mercilessly flailed around by its owner.

“Look how you’re taking me so well,” Yamashita rasped out on his red-tipped ears, the deep baritone making his cock traitorously jump to seek more attention. The man had never touched it this time, unlike their previous encounters where he even took it into his mouth and suck and make Taka see the stars and the fucking Milky Way—

_JESUS FUCKING CHRIST—_

Why is he thinking like that? Why is he recalling those memories as if they’re sweet instead of traumatic ones?

_Why?!_

Fingers then trailed down on the side of his face, forcing it to stare across his hazy reflection on the mirror—half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide, heavily flushed cheeks, a sheen of sweat covering her entire face, his puffy lips parted open, letting out ragged breaths and moans that fogged the once clear mirror across him—

_No, no, that can’t be me—_

Another thrust hit something within him dead on and Taka was already screaming and sobbing and begging, chanting like a broken porcelain doll.

_No, it can’t be,_ those sounds of pure ecstasy were not coming from him.

_No, it can’t be._ His hips were not rolling back, seeking more friction and wanting to take that hard, hot shaft inside him over and over again.

_No, it can’t be_. He was not crying and begging the man to _“m-make me cum, p-please…please…make me—c-cum..!”_ in a desperate, wanton voice.

It wasn’t him, Taka tried to tell himself, _it’s not me…_

_Not me…_

“So…” the man drawled behind him, licking and nipping the sensitive shell of his ear as he rammed his cock relentlessly into him, “You’re not gonna do that again, Takahiro...?”

Taka tried to pull his ear away from the man but he couldn’t escape it, especially when he bit it so hard he feared that the appendage would just drop off his head, “Wha—!”

“You’re not gonna turn my subordinates against me, again, right...?”

_W-what was he saying?! Why is he even talking?! Can’t he just…just…_

Taka’s mind went deep into the gutters as the blinding sensation keeps building up and building within him, wanting the pure, heavenly bliss of release—

“Answer, Takahiro.”

“H-hai!” he gasped, fingers curling and trying to claw at the smooth surface of the mirror, “J-just fucking let me…let me…I…I won’t do it again, I won’t… _won’t!”_

“Good,” he feels the man smirked against his ear and that was the last sensation he actually registered before he was brought into the mind-blowing orgasm he was seeking right from the start. Blinding white light erupted under the lids of his eyes as the man thrusted and thrusted and thrusted until taka can’t remember _who’s who and who,_ or where they’ve been joined together, and it didn’t matter anyway because finally, the fucking tie was gone and he was cumming so hard he might have sunk on the floor if not for the strong arms gripping his waist and keeping him upright.

He can’t feel it, the warmth on his back, the thick shaft pulsing deep within him, the liquids trailing on his supple legs, the mess he made on the mirror and on the floor, he can’t even hear the maddening rhythm of his heart beat and the now familiar heart beat thundering behind him.

He probably looked so spent right now. He wondered if the man looks the same...?

Taka tiredly brought his eyes towards the reflection of the man holding him flush against his front—only to see the usually cool, bored eyes squeezed shut—his face looks so _fucking peaceful and young_ for once, that sent this unfamiliar twinge into Taka’s heart again—before they fluttered open.

Taka choked back a startled sob when the man’s lips slowly formed his signature lopsided, lazy smirk.

“Good boy, Takahiro…” he said before planting a kiss on his exposed and battered shoulder, “Now, let’s have the _main course_ , ne..?

…

…

…

Taka passed out.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He really _did._

And the next time he woke up, he was laying on the man’s lap, a coat draped over his entire form. His head was leaning on the man’s shoulder, with the yakuza’s left hand wrapped around his back to support his frame, fiddling with his sweat-slicked hair.

“—anything leaked, do you understand?” the man was saying, his voice sending pleasant reverberations on his chest. Taka tiredly sighed as he tried to look up. His mind is still obviously fogged up because here he is clinging and nuzzling towards the man like some _sappy couple_ after making love or someshit.

“ _Hai_ , we would delete everything, Yamashita-sama,” the other person said in a frantic manner, “..about the suit. It will take about a weak to make his custom tailored…”

Taka blinked up, the coziness and feeling of comfort slowly fading out of his drugged-like trance. The man glanced down at him, a smile plastered on his face as he reached down to cradle his chin and plant a chaste, fluttering kiss on his swollen lips.

“You awake now?” he asked, adding to Taka’s horror and confusion, “You made me your personal sleeping pillow for hours…”

Taka’s eyes widened as he realized where the are—in the dressing room, on the plush couch, with the entire staff surrounding them and eyeing them with curiosity. Taka gulped, his eyes glancing at his covered form. It was the man’s coat, he can smell his familiar scent on it and thank fucking god he had some semblance of common sense to cover Taka’s debauched body before displaying him for the entire world to see.

“Y-you—,” his voice unfortunately failed him just as he was about to curse the man to Mars and back, “ _Y-you—,”_

“…I still have work to do, you know?” the man sighed, which is really, really infuriating and makes Taka want to rip it off his annoyingly handsome face, before he turned towards the one he’s talking to earlier, “Saturday. I need the suit on Saturday.”

“B-but sir, we usually need a week to—,”

“ _Saturday._ ”

It was just a word, spoken in a deep voice but everyone instantly went stiff on their spot. Yamashita’s eyes were cold again, and Taka knows—he had experienced it first hand, anyway—that no one messes up with the leader when he’s looking and commanding like that.

“H-hai…”

“Good,” the man then turned his attention to him, deep maroon tresses falling on his forehead as he smiled down at him, “What were you saying again, Takahiro?”

Taka felt his stomach churn in fear at the sudden change of demeanor. One second he’s leaking out this murderous aura and now he’s asking Taka like he’s some sort of a fiery-haired angel. It’s confusing but Taka is tired and he wants to just go home and…and probably see Tomoya knocking on his door tomorrow, brining over some stuffs…

Who would’ve thought that he would long for those moments…?

He groaned before clutching the man’s white undershirt as he dumped his flustered face on the expensive fabric, “ _You_ …Just take me the fuck out of here _, damn you…”_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think of this~!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. You can see the fanarts I made (yes I did fanarts for my own fanfiction because I'm kinda that pathetic and desperate to see them in 2D T^T) for HTMHF in my instagram account: @toruka_is_justice


	15. We Can See How It's Gonna End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Reicchi-san who went through hell to made it possible for us to hear that lovely version of Take What You Want. 
> 
> Disclaimer: There won't be any sex scene in this chapter. Also, OOR and Takeru Satoh are not mine. This is just a product of my imagination so please don't sue me.

The day of the supposed party came and Taka was nervously sitting at the back of the black car, his fingers trembling as he fiddled with the cuffs of his black suit. Taka was fetched earlier, a block away from his apartment building—all means of escape available around him—

Run. Hide. _Never come back._

_No, no, I can’t escape,_ he thought as he watched the black, heavily-tinted car parked from afar, _they will find me. Or they will use Hiro to find me…hurt him…torture him…threaten to kill him like he did to Tomoya…_

Tomoya—whom he hasn’t seen since the last incident. He was driven back home by the other bodyguard, _Ryota_ , as the redhead yakuza introduced shortly before depositing him in the backseat. Taka couldn’t care, he was tired and literally _fucked to oblivion_ so he just nodded and allowed the yakuza to fussed over his limp frame.

_Be it Tomoya, let it be Tomoya_ , he prayed, clutching the strap of his back as he waited for the driver to get out of the car. He wouldn’t lie to him, right? That Yamashita won’t just do that to him, even after he promised that he would keep Tomoya safe? Alive?

_But he also once said to never trust a yakuza, but…but…_

Taka wanted to kick himself for having this…this _part_ of him who desperately clings to the Boss’ words. Well, it’s not like he had any other choice anyway. The annoying seaweed head’s life is practically on the man’s hand and Taka…Taka had done his part, _offered what he can,_ gave what he could afford—something that the redhead definitely enjoyed—

Taka’s mind wandered back on that short tryst, the image of Yamashita filled with ecstasy, head thrown back and lips slightly, ever-so slightly parted open when he came into Taka—

_The fuck?!_

He blinked, shaking his head multiple times to clear it off with the dirty images—memories, he oh-so wanted to forget.

He heard the sound of the closing door and straightened up to see—

To see—

“Y-you’re alive!” he yelled out when the familiar mop of green hair filled his vision. His heart feels like it’s expanding at the sight of the yakuza—all clad in black and smiling—grinning brightly like the sun that he might permanently damage Taka’s eyes at the intensity of it. He knows it’s weird to care for someone—but damn if he cares because Tomoya—Tomoya is here and alive and—

And the yakuza head actually stayed true on his words and fulfilled his promise.

N-not… _not bad at all._

“Why won’t I be alive?!” Tomoya said as he walked towards him Taka’s smile slowly fading as he caught glimpses of bandages under the man’s sleeve…and now that he’s getting nearer, he can see the faint lines of healing strips of wounds on his cheek and the slight discoloration around his right eye—

That…

_That motherfucking son of a bitch!_

Taka felt his insides coiled in anger, furl in betrayal as his face was pulled down into a dark scowl, “He _hurt_ you.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement—true enough to make Tomoya halt in his bouncy steps, the façade of his bright, annoyingly energetic face slowly slipping away as he stared at Taka in complete understanding.

“Taka-chan—,”

“He hurt you!” Taka snarled, crossing the small distance between them, “He promised and took everything and yet—and yet—,”

Tomoya sheepishly smiled as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head, “ _Maa, he_ actually did spare me—,”

“But look at those wounds, you idiot!”

“—he promised you that he will keep me alive,” Tomoya said, making Taka halt all the profanities he’s about to scream off in name of that redhead, as he apologetically smiled down at him. He looks so calm, despite the bruises and wounds and the apparent threat in his life, Tomoya looks so damn calm and accepting and it infuriates Taka to no ends! “But he didn’t promise not…you know, teaching me a few lessons or something?”

“That fucking—,”

“ _Maa, maa_ —,”

“Don’t _maa, maa,_ me you fucking idiot!” he screeched, “I was so worried! I thought he’s…I thought he’s really gonna have you killed just because of keeping a secret! That asshole who never values anyone—,”

“But Taka-chan,” Tomoya gently said, “ _He’s a yakuza_ , and in our world, you don’t have any use for a person who can disobey you in the name of someone else so _you must understand him_ —,”

_What?_ Taka’s brows furrowed in confusion and outrage, what the heck?! Why are these people ready to die, ready to accept whatever the bastard says? Just because he’s their boss?

“You are a _living person_ —,” he said through clenched teeth, “Someone with his own life, not a goddamned puppet or toy, so he doesn’t have to order you around like that! _Surely you understand that_?!”

Tomoya didn’t responded but just smiled at him. Taka hates that smile, the smile the adults would always give him when he was younger—when they thought that smiling and lying to a child is a good way to save him from all the miseries of this world.

The police, the doctors, the nurses, the people from the orphanages—everyone—and now even Tomoya.

Even if he’s already a grown-up, people would still give him that smile. _Why?_

“Well, the matter’s already settled now,” Tomoya dismissed before suddenly moving into a waist-deep bow—

“What the—,”

“—And I’m alive because of you so please accept my gratitude, Takahiro-sama,” he said—so sincere and earnest that Taka couldn’t find any words to say against that. He deserves this. He saved a life, and for a moment, he thought that it feels nice. That seeing Tomoya again—breathing and moving, not cold and lifeless floating in Tokyo Bay—even if he’s covered with wounds, feels so nice. Somehow, the debauchery he had experienced—suffered—feels like it’s been paid off.

“S-stop that,” he hissed after a long moment of silence, with Tomoya bowing all the while, “I’m not your boss and…and the bastard would definitely throw a fuss if he knows that you’re bowing to someone else.”

Tomoya glanced up at him before he straightened up and burst into a merry laughing spree. Taka decide that he likes that sound, high-pitched and all, a laugh that would make you also want to cackle in joy even if there’s really nothing to worry about.

“Aniki won’t mind if _we all_ bow to you, Taka-chan,” he said before grinning down at him, “But seriously, thank you for your...uh... _hard work??”_

Taka’s face heated up in an alarming rate. It sucks that Tomoya probably—no scratch that—he definitely has an idea on what happened to make their Boss’ mind change in a matter of minutes.

“If it wasn’t for you, my head would probably be floating on some random—,”

“Gaaah!!! I don’t need the mental image, you sick fuck!”

“Gomen, gomen!” he said as he tried to dodge Taka’s lameass slaps. Well, he could really hit the man hard enough to knock him out into coma but he’s wounded and Taka feels a bit gracious today so he decided he won’t, “Come on, I have the suit waiting. You can change in Aniki’s unit—,”

All color instantly drained from Taka’s face at the mentioned of that damned, cursed penthouse.

Tomoya probably noticed how he went pale-white because he immediately shook his head, “No, no, don’t worry. Aniki isn’t there. He’s busy somewhere else—,”

Taka shivered at that, hoping that somewhere else doesn’t mean that the yakuza is busy doing nasty, brutal stuffs to one of his subordinates again.

“—so you can change in peace!”

Taka couldn’t make himself feel at ease with that but hey, Tomoya almost died for him so he won’t lie to him right now. Maybe…maybe he just need to trust him a little more.

“F-fine…” he nodded, gripping the straps of his backpack as he followed the man into the car.

The sooner the party ends, the sooner he’ll get home tonight.

The door of the car slammed shut and Taka was attacked with this sudden foreboding feeling that something will not turn out right tonight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Their stay in the bastard’s unit was a short one. Well, it’s not like Taka would actually take his damn time into exploring the unit—a different one from the penthouse ha smashed on what seems like ages ago. This unit is actually bigger, with more slick, modern furniture that Taka could only drool upon brochures and shopping networks.

_Just…just how rich that bastard is?_

Flashbacks of the countless of gifts that practically greeted him every fucking day—the highest class of foods, jewelries, deeds of ownership—

_Never mind,_ he snorted. He doesn’t have enough patience to actually wonder on how much money the asshole has in his accounts. It’s probably all from illegal transactions anyway.

Taka ran his fingers on the table top which has no dust at all. The unit is well-kept but somehow...it looks like no one is living here. Aside from the empty ashtray on the center table, Taka can’t find any more trace of the man that was supposed to be residing here.

It looks so _bare_ despite the lavished furnishings.

It looks so _empty_ even with the expensive stuffs around.

It looks so _dark and cold_ even with the high-floor to ceiling glass walls on the far side.

It’s like…like an abandoned doll house.

No frames, no pictures, no clothes strewn around, no dirty dishes on the kitchen sink.

_And that man is actually living here...?_

Taka’s thoughts went back to their humble abode, a simple two-bedroom unit. It’s not located in a nice area, and the handrails in the corridor looks like they’re gonna fall off any moment, but Taka can proudly say that it’s a home he would always, always gladly go back to.

_Because it is where Hiro is._

It is where all their memories are made—sad and happy ones—ever since they ended up living on their own—away from everyone.

It’s a house— _the home_ —that Taka literally built with his blood, sweat and tears—every single night he spent working was meant for maintaining it and sending Hiro to a nice school. And even if it’s always a mess in there, even if there’s only small windows illuminating the unit, even if the mattress and couch and all the other pieces of furniture looks so used and torn on edges, even if they have some unwashed dishes on the counter—Taka would always, _always_ love to go home into that place.

_I wonder if he ever gets lonely in here…?_

Taka glanced at the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, all of Tokyo splayed before him under the early evening sky. It was pretty, indeed, the high place befitting the head of a powerful clan—this place looking like a high-throne _befitting an emperor_ and yet—and yet—

“Come on, Taka-chan,” he jolted in surprise when Tomoya suddenly emerged from the bedroom, holding out the suit he was supposed to wear for the party, “You know where the bathroom is, right?” he cheekily asked, and Taka felt his ears reddened like fucking tomatoes because of the memories of him sitting in front of the yakuza, his back on the strong warm chest as the cruel redhead washed his hair and body—a rather intimate act after the brutal, merciless episode.

Does everybody know about what happens inside that door?!

_Goddammit, I’ll really strangle that man to death later—_

But first, deny. Deny—

“H-how would I know—,”

“Tsk, tsk, come one,” Tomoya grinned, “Aniki hates waiting, remember?”

And just like that, Taka obeyed like a lost, little puppy. Putting the undershirt and slacks was easy, but putting the damn tie and coat is a different story. Good thing that Tomoya was there, knotting the tie like a PRO—which is probably because these bastards usually wear suits every time of everyday in everywhere. Even in alleys. Or club houses.

Even while shopping.

_H-how...how fucked up is that? No wonder he’s knotting my tie like he’s using some sort of magic!_

After a few moments, Taka was then made to stand in front of the mirror to take a good look at himself. Well, nothing really changes, aside from the fact that he’s wearing a super expensive suit that he would definitely sell online after the party tonight. _I mean, this probably costs a lot, right?? And the bastard won’t have any use for this afterwards so I can…I can…_

A frowned marred his face, _since when_ did he find taking things from the yakuza so natural?

He tilted his head, the curly locks falling on his eyes, and partly obscuring his view. Huh…This hair is kinda a mess. Taka wonders if the man would mind if he would style it differently? Wait, why is he even thinking on what the man would say about his appearance?!

_It's not like I’ll attend the shitty event to impress him!_

Taka huffed, sending his fringes upwards for a moment before he stared at his reflection. He looks like a hobo wearing a suit and the bastard would definitely get an eyeful of judging and questioning stares if he would come with a messy haired man who looks like a kid when put side-by-side with that…that…

Taka blushed.

_Tallhandsomedropdeadgorgeousmanthatcanmakegirlsscreamlikeshitjustbyseeinghimwalking._

…

…

W-what was that?!

_Gaaaaaaah!!! So embarrassing!_ Taka pushed the locks out of his face and decided that he will search for some…hair products in the man’s bathroom cabinet just to make himself look more presentable—to everyone’s eyes! Not for him, goddammit!

_Never for him!_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Toru lazily swirled the contents of his glass.

The night proves to be boring, people wandering here and there, glances being thrown at him—casually, flamboyantly, other boldly trying to take steps towards him, before Toru’s heavily-lidded eyes would stop them on their tracks, pinned them on their places and stare at them, his presence and the lack of actual emotions on his face a signal that they really, really shouldn’t even dare to come close.

_I have no interest on mingling with stupid people._

He sighed, looking at the vast expanse of the hall. The party is being held in one of Satoh’s manor, in celebration of his birthday or anniversary or the birth of his dog or something—he really didn’t bother to read the invitation. It’s not like he’ll go here anyway, if it’s not for the favor he’s asking for the surgeon.

Takahiro would be in great debt to him after that. And Toru would make sure to spurn him, _lure him deeper_ until he won't be able to tell if it's hatred or passion he's feeling for the yakuza. He laid his arm on the backrest of the long couch, a small, lopsided smirk gracing his lips.

Maybe, he could even taste Takahiro tonight...it's been what, a few days? Two? Since they had last met and Toru's hands are getting itchy to grab those supple hips again, to kiss those plump lips, to bite and mark the otherwise flawless skin...

The doors of the hall opened, and his smile widened.

_Speak of the devil and he shall come._

He put the glass down on the table, the expensive liquor instantly losing its allure in comparison with the suited man entering the hall behind Tomoya. Toru stood up and silently walked towards the direction of his prey, intense eyes never leaving the now fully exposed face— _and damn if the brat didn't look even better like that_ —with his hair up and those brilliant almond-shaped eyes displayed for the whole world to see.

_It's not fair,_ he thought, how Takahiro could easily gather his thoughts and all of his attention just by walking into the clueless crowd. It's not fair how he looks so terribly lost, shaking like a new born fawn but still catching his eye, his fancy, his everything.

He narrowed his eyes, wanting nothing but to eagerly crossed the distance between them and tousled those neat locks, because those bright eyes were _only his_ to see—because his entire flushed face is only _meant for Toru to see_ —not to be displayed to anyone else—but even before he can reach his destination and act his thoughts, those eyes suddenly landed on his.

Like he knows exactly where Toru is.

Like he knows what exactly Toru is planning to do.

He watched as those eyes shamelessly roamed on his form—eyes taking in the magenta hair slicked back, with a few loose strands falling on his forehead. He watched as those eyes go down, staring at his perfectly pressed suit, down, down before Takahiro abruptly woke up from his daze—cheeks and ears red as ripe berries, mouth agape and eyes wide like saucers.

Toru inwardly smirked at that. Takahiro had obviously _appreciated_ his looks and damn, he hates how his blood sizzle with this dangerous feeling again. Want, want, he wants more of those gazes, want more of those ogling’s— _preferably when they’re on bed_ , instead of Takahiro shutting his eyes closed or just looking away whenever Toru is touching, ravaging, claiming him.

"We're here, Boss!" Tomoya said, stating the obvious. Takahiro snorted at that but his gaze has been averted and is now busy taking in his surroundings. This place is probably new to him, the giant chandeliers, well-polished floor and the flux of food and drinks brought by servers fluidly gliding through the crowd. Curious eyes roamed around for a moment, until he noticed that they're gathering a few looks from the other guests. It's amusing how the bright eyes instantly went wide, before casting them down in an attempt to escape the equally curious stares from the people around them.

"Yes, I can see that very much, Tomoya," said right-hand man just beamed and Toru fought the urge to sigh in exasperation. Sometimes, he questions his judgement on allowing the man to live if he would just act as dumb and oblivious like now, "But you sure took your sweet time. I was dying in boredom while waiting for you."

"Dying?" Takahiro snorted, "You could've entertained yourself with the pretty _oneesans_ over there," he subtly glances at the group of finely dressed women who's throwing them inquisitive looks, "I bet they're just waiting for your signal to come over."

Toru smirked and stepped a bit closer—enough that they're almost standing chest-to-chest—but Takahiro is smaller than him so scratch that—until the smaller man's face is almost pressing on his chest. The singer flinched but looked up at him with the same ferocity he has all this time.

He's not backing down.

" _A-re, a-re_ ," he clacked his tongue, "Is that jealousy I hear in you, Takahiro?"

"No, it's the _truth_ ," he scoffed, "And don't call me by my name or I'll punch your face in front of your very important guests."

Tomoya made a disgruntled sound at the back of his throat at that blatant display of hostility against his boss while the said voice just throws his head back, deep chuckles reverberating on their corner and shocking half of the people who can hear their conversations.

Yamashita Toru never laughed like that.

Well he _sometimes does,_ but it would always be followed by an explosion or bloodbath or just deadly torture sessions.

“Ah, we don’t want that, ne?” he smiled, making the boy scowled even deeper at him, before he offered a hand, “Come on, I’ll lead you to our seat.”

Takahiro blankly stared at his hand like it’s gonna devour him whole or something.

“You would meet my friend later,” he said, watching as confusion and conflict flashed on the singer’s face, “He can help your brother.”

When Takahiro eyed him warily, then his hand for a moment, Toru instantly knew that he had won. Slow, hesitant fingers made their way on his own, until he can fully envelope the smaller hand into his larger one. He gripped the hand tightly, pulled its owner until Taka’s front is flushed on his chest and lovingly glanced down at his company for the night.

“I hope you’ll behave tonight, kitten,” he purred, making the man’s eyes go wide and frantic, subtly struggling to get himself free of his clutches, “Or do you want to be fucked right here, right now for all my important guests to see, hmmm?”

A flicker of hatred and horror and disgust flashed on the smaller man’s eyes before he solemnly nodded.

“I…I understand…” he softly mumbled and that was enough to make Toru smile and put a small, comfortable distance between them. He knows that everyone is looking, can feel the curious eyes on him, can feel the envious gazes on Takahiro, so what’s better than to give them an exhibition on how important this young man is to the head of the Yamashita Clan.

He suddenly turned around, grabbing Takahiro by his waist—a hand cupping the base of his skull as he leaned down to capture those sweet, sweet lips in a very erotic, open-mouthed kiss that lasted for a full minute. He can see the panic on those almond-shaped eyes—fear and disgust evident on the orbs before a look of pure resignation dawned to him.

“ _Mmmphmm…_ ”

He inwardly celebrated when a soft moan escaped the puffy lips, much more when Takahiro’s nimble fingers clutched the lapels of his suit—be it to pull him closer or push him away, Toru doesn’t care because right now, the man is clinging to him for dear life.

_And I will make sure that it’ll remain like that forever._

Toru smirked as he slowly leaned away, aware of the gawking guests, jaws hanging opens and eyes blown wide at the obscure display of affection. He can see the jealous stares of woman, the hungry glances of men but he couldn’t care less.

_Let them all see._

He smiled—for the umpteenth time since this man entered the hall—and swiped the wetness on the kiss-swollen lips with the pads of his thumbs, all while looking deceivingly adoring at Takahiro’s flustered face.

_Let them all know that Moriuchi Takahiro is his—is a property of the Yamashita clan, of Yamashita Toru himself._

And that death would be definite for those who would dare to lay their hands on his little kitten.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_T-that damned bastard!_

Taka furiously wiped his mouth with a handkerchief the moment the redhead yakuza turned his back on him. He was even tempted to make annoying faces directed on the man’s broad back, but considering how almost the entire room had set their eyes on him, he decided that it would just a way to make a fool of himself in front of this snobbish people.

_I may have promised to behaved but damn_ , Taka glared at the suit-cladded body a few feet away from him, does he really need to do that in front of these people?! _Does he really have no shame?! Look, every girl is now eyeing me like I’ve stolen their husbands or something!_

Taka didn’t dare to look up because he already knows that he would be greeted by heavily-made up eyes boring holes right onto his skull. Just when he’s planning to stay in the background and not attract unnecessary attention to himself, the bastard had to ruin it!

Taka sighed and glanced around. He hopes that the food would be nice. I mean, this is a high-end party for extremely rich people, right?! It would be a total shit if the food sucks.

_Heh,_ his mind snorted, _as if your yakuza would actually eat food that are not of the best quality._

The place is really posh and Taka had to gulp multiple times as he stared at the ceiling because he would drool all over the floor if he didn’t. The chandeliers are so big, with crystals shining so bright that Taka wonders how much it will cost if he sells them. He can see his reflection on the smooth floor, and everyone is wearing extravagant dresses and crisp suits.

_I don’t belong here,_ he grimly thought. He _never did_ and _never will._

In fact, if it wasn’t just for the bastard making a huge deal about this event, and if it’s not for the chance to meet someone who could help his brother’s medical condition, Taka would rather receive some severe punishment than getting displayed like an arm-candy in this hall.

_I mean, he could’ve…_ he fiddled with the cuffs of his coat and subtly glanced at the pretty girls around them—all eyeing the yakuza leader probably with the intent of having his babies or something, he could’ve brought a girl of high-social status…someone who can mingle with the crowd naturally and not like…not like…

“Takahiro.”

He was abruptly pulled out of his stupor when the man called his name. he looked up, only to realize that he’s staring at him, offering a hand and beckoning him to come closer. And because he’s feeling kinda sorry for himself, he just numbly stepped towards the waiting yakuza and cocked his head in confusion.

“It seems that Satoh is taking his damn time,” he said. Taka is suddenly hyperaware of the hand that landed on the small of his back as he was forced to look at the yakuza’s company—a middle aged man who eyes him with curiosity and…and something else that he really doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of it so he just focusses his gaze on the leader, “And the guests are probably getting bored by now. How about a little _entertainment_ for them, Takahiro?”

...

…

“E-entertainment?” he stuttered because damn his messed up mind—giving him ideas that this asshole would actually do something perverted, or make him do something perverted and lewd in front of the guests— _because that’s his source of entertainment_ —Taka naked and panting and crying and begging and aching—so he immediately thought that…that…

“Y-you want me to…to...?”

He doesn’t want to accept it. His entire frame shook in fear because he knows that even if he tries to escape, if this bastard actually wanted it, he could easily drag Taka back and tie him up and do…do nasty things to him and—

_W-where did your aggressive possessiveness of me went to?!_

_I thought you said that I’m…I’m only…_

Only…

_Only yours so why—_

He froze.

Taka’s eyes flew wide at that. What the hell? Why is he even thinking like the man had actually abandoned him? Why is he feeling like a clingy motherfucker?!

“Yes,” Yamashita nonchalantly, dread and even more hatred and this…this vague sense of disappointment and betrayal creeping through Taka’s system, “Play a song or two for everyone.”

“Wha—,” Taka can swear he heard his jaws hit the damn floor at that. _He…he wants me to sing? Just sing? Not…not getting naked and…and humiliated and…and…_

Tears swelled from his eyes as relief suddenly rushed to him. Relief that he won’t have to something drastic, something out of his control, and something that would further taint him.

Relief that the yakuza leader won’t just hand him to anyone else—

He gasped at that thought.

“S-sure,” he said instead, earning a tilt of head from the leader. He probably didn’t expect Taka to easily agree but he didn’t say anything else, “B-but I don’t have my guitar…”

“How about a piano?” the man asked, “They have a grand piano here, can you play it though?”

A piano? Taka’s eyes landed on the slick, black grand piano on a slightly raised pedestal. Sure he had some training on keyboards but…he glanced at the man, who’s eyeing him expectantly, it’s too late to back out now.

_Behave,_ Taka thought as he slowly nodded, making the man smile sweetly—which make his skin crawl by the way—down at him, _he told me to behave._

And behave he’ll do.

“You never failed to surprise me, Takahiro,” he mumbled before he leads him towards the pedestal, the crowd automatically parting to give them way. Taka ducking because the stares of the strangers and the warm, hand on his back is making his sense overloaded, as they made their way towards the instrument. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for this performance, the way those clubs pay for your gigs, is that alright?”

Taka snorts but nodded anyway _, as if you’ll accept no for an answer, idiot._

He gulped when they halted in front of the massive piano, the keys—ivory and ebony—are shining under the bright lights. It was daunting, and yet alluring because it has been a long time since Taka had run his fingers on piano keys—since he focused on playing the guitar because let’s face it, it’s easier to carry a guitar rather than a keyboard to every place he performs. Besides, the piano reminds him of his family— _their former home, their parents who all—_

“I’ll watch in the sidelines,” Yamashita said directly on his ear, Taka shuddering at the close contact and warm, moist breath fanning on the shell of his ear, “Give your best, Takahiro.”

He nodded, because he couldn’t find the right word to say against that.

He nodded because his mind thought that it’s the only acceptable answer for the yakuza.

He nodded because he’s attacked with this… _this sense of responsibility_ …like…like he shouldn’t let him down…shouldn’t let this man down in front of these people…

It’s weird _. It’s fucked up._

And Taka don’t want to think anymore as he sat down, adjusting the height of the stool and testing a few keys—the sound loud and carrying far across the hall—effectively gathering everyone’s attention. The crowd fell into a hushed silence, making Taka swallowed hard in nervousness—

He eyed the keys, his mind racing and trying to remember a piece—any song—before he glanced on the yakuza—wide and scared almond-shaped eyes meeting the reassuring heavily-lidded ones of the leader.

_H-here goes nothing…_

A key, another one, and one until he’s softly playing the piece he had thought he’d forgotten through the years of playing guitar. His frame swaying as his fingers slowly moved across the keys, a small pause here and there before resuming the melodies he oh-so missed.

_“Here with you now I am good, still miss you_

_I don't know what I can do, we can't be true”_

He leaned away for a moment before singing the next lines in Japanese, much to everyone’s surprise—

_“Mitasareru koto naku futari no kyori (This distance between us won’t ever be fulfilled)_

_Chijimatte iku tabi setsunai (It tears my heart every time it shrinks)_

_Afure dashita omoi tsunoru da ke de (The overflowing emotions just grow stronger)_

_Ouuh It's hard for me to say”_

 

For a moment, Taka had completely forgotten everyone as he immersed himself into the song—his voice strong and reverberating across the halls, loud and soft, shoulders moving with every press. His eyes were closed as he sang, sang the song his parents had left him and he was suddenly brought back in a house—a large house filled with the most extravagant things and the faces of his parents looking down at him. He could see the old white piano, he could see Hiro, he could see Tomohiro, he could see everyone—

_“Nante omoeba omou hodo ni  (The more I think something like that,)_

_Kimi wo wasureru koto nante boku ni wa de ki ru hazu mo nakute  (I know that it’s not possible for me to forget you)_

_We always wish tonight could last forever_

_I can be your side”_

—and there’s the crash and Taka had to open his eyes—bright light almost blinding him as he searched the crowd for any sense of familiarity—to search for an anchor to reality—but he only found those blazing orbs, the intensity making him weak and strong all at the same time as he repeatedly pounded on the keys. A short silence only filled with the music his piano is producing.

D-don’t—

_Don’t look at me like that._

_Don’t look at me as if…as if…_

He averted his eyes from the redhead’s heavily-lidded ones and focused on the expanse of black and white across him as he started to sing again.

_“I shouldn’t be in your heart_

_Either the time we have spent_

_And I want you to know what the truth is—,”_

The crash, Taka’s fault, blood, everyone gone—everyone dead but Hiro and Taka was left alone to support, to give life, to give him everything the tragedy had taken from their family—

_“But sometimes it makes me feel so sick, oh no_

_I just can’t say to you, No I won’t”_

His strong voice carrying across the hall, his mind drifting to Hiroki and his future. Taka would _give up_ everything for him, _do anything_ to atone for his sins—be it working hard from day to night, be it becoming this man’s bitch, be it becoming a whore to that…Satoh-san, if it will save Hiroki then he’s ready… _ready to do anything—_

High, high the notes went by, his voice is quivering but not cracking, shaking at the intensity and he felt himself lost in his own thoughts and the memories he had always wanted to forget. The falsetto sounding like a painful gasp in his ears—

_“Nidoto ai suru koto mo nai kana (Can I ever love again?)_

_Boku wa hontouni sore de kokoro kara shiawase to ieru kana (Would I be able to call that happiness from the bottom of my heart?)_

_Yes, we always wish tonight could last forever”_

_“I can…”_ a short pause, and Taka can swear he can hear some faint sniffles in the background as silence befalls once again, the piano stopping producing the sounds, before Taka parted his lips once more,  “ _be your…side…”_

Like a relieved sigh, Taka ended the song with a few more notes before finally stopping, his eyes still squeezed shut as he waited—waited for the tears to just…I dunno, evaporate or something. He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of everyone, heck not in front of that man, just because of a song. It’s pathetic.

But then, everyone is suddenly clapping and cheering and he shakily opened his eyes—

Smoldering dark orbs staring right through him—the perfectly sculpted lips quirked up in a what? _Satisfied? Contented? Proud smile?_

And Taka doesn’t know how to react on that so he just excused himself, abruptly stood up from the stool and muttered “toilet” towards the direction of the bastard—like a fairy tale princess, he flees the roaring crowd, hastily disappears behind huge doors—completely unaware of the auburn-haired man watching him go away with so, so much interest in his eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Of course, Taka got lost. The hallways are big, maze-like and has a shit-ton of unnecessary expensive stuffs that he could’ve broken and shattered into pieces due to his rushed running away stunt. He should’ve brought Tomoya along with him—no, not in the toilet, damn, as if—and have a breath of fresh air, away from the suffocating atmosphere inside the party hall earlier.

He couldn’t stand it anymore=--everyone’s stare, that man’s stare—so he needed to get away—fast—to just…I dunno, rest his nerves? He’s being on the edge since arriving here, and honestly, he’ll prefer being alone in this adequately lit hallway than in the middle of a flock of strangers wearing gowns and suits and fake smiles and heavy make-ups.

M-maybe this is the best…

He thought as he stared at the moon across the huge French windows on one side of the hallway. It was dead quiet outside, the foliage of trees was dark, the silver moonlight flooding the carpeted floor and—

“ _Mppphhh—_!”

Taka was about to turn back towards the direction where he came from when someone suddenly clamped a gloved hand over his mouth—

_What the—_

He tried to glance at the assaulter—expecting that it was just the redhead yakuza—but there’s no flash of bright magenta hair, no snarky, perverted remarks, no blazing eyes but instead, an unfamiliar man on his middle ages was grabbing him and slamming his face on the hard wall—

_Who—_

Fear flooded his entire system as he struggled to free himself. Who is this? What does he want—

His eyes widened when the man blatantly showed what he wanted—pulling on the belt of Taka’s slacks, harsh and rough and nothing—nothing like how Yamashita would whenever they—

_No, no, no, no—_

_This couldn’t be happening—_

“Mppphhh!!!”

_Please leave me alone!_

_Help!_

“God, you look so prettier up close,” the man gasped behind him, sending horrified shivers down to Taka’s spine. “Yamashita-sama had always shared his pets after being done with them—you’re also one of them, right?”

Taka shook his head. What the fuck, is this one of that bastard’s men?! _Why is he even attacking me? Doesn’t he know that…that no one should—_

The man laughed at his pathetic response and slammed him even harsher on the wall, the hard surface scrapping his cheeks.

He continued to struggle but it proves to be futile as the man was obviously larger and stronger than him, and there’s no guitar or any nearby object that Taka could use to smash against the asshole’s head to escape—

_Holy fuck, am I gonna get raped again?!_

_Hell, no!_

_Help!_

He doubled his effort—panic rising into his veins when he felt something hard, something warm and horrifying pressing against his backside—memories of the times the redhead yakuza had humped into him flooded his mind—

But this is different—

_He’s different—_

His mind went to the yakuza leader.

_Help, you bastard!_

_Where are you when I needed you the most—_

_Help!_

_Yamashita—_

_Yamashita-san—_

_Toru—_

He moved his cheek away, the fingers slipping from his lips and he took that chance—that small, small slip—to scream his lungs out and cried—

“Toru-san!”

The weight behind him as abruptly pulled away, the man’s body was slammed up next to him. It was happening to fast, and Taka can see the bloodied nose just a few inches away from him. A hand was gripping the man’s skull—tightly, forcefully—and Taka can see the familiar bat tattoo peeking from the cuffs and—and—

“Toru-san—!” he hiccupped, tears finally streaming from his face when he realized that it was the bastard who had saved him, that it was the redhead yakuza who removed the man from. He really shouldn’t be feeling like this—like he owes the man something— _he raped me too, dammit!_

But at that moment, Taka couldn’t bring himself to care because now that Toru-san—when did he started calling him by his name—is here, he would be safe—he is safe—

_Safe._

_Safe._

_Safe._

“How. Dare. You—,” Toru-san was saying, pulling a gun from his coat and pointed the tip of it at the base of the man’s skull. His eyes were blazing—not with passion nor lust—but with pure intent to kill—kill the man who dared to touch him and—

For a horrifying moment, Taka thought that the man _would deserve it._

“How dare you lay your filthy hands on my property!” he snarled but even before Toru-san could actually pull the trigger, or just kill the man by pushing him too hard against the wall, Tomoya already took charge, grappling the man until his laying on his stomach on the floor, arms on his back with Tomoya stepping on it. They’re currently getting attentions—suit-cladded men surrounding them, all drawing their gun and pointed towards the bleeding man.

Taka had never imagined that there would come a time that he would feel safe at the sight of guns—drawn by Toru-san’s men. His knees gave out and if it’s not for the familiar, warm, strong arms holding him up, Taka would crumple like a heap of fabric on the floor.

Suddenly, there were gentle hands on his face, thumbs running across the apple of his cheeks and whispers of reassurance— _you’re safe now, don’t cry, I’ll protect you, precious little kitten_ —being mumbled against his ears.

Toru-san.

He had come.

And just like that—just by being surrounded with the now-familiar warmth and scent and voice and the sight of that bright hair and heavily-lidded eyes, Taka gave out.

He let out a sob, snuggling deeper into the yakuza’s arms, fingers desperately grabbing at the fabric of the pristine suit as he buried his face onto his chest. Taka can feel himself hyperventilating, breaths coming into ragged pants and choked whimpers.

“Shhhh…” a calming hand rubbed circles on his back, soothing, comforting—gentle—so, so much different from the look of anger and pure murderous intent he had seen on the man’s face earlier.

_P-please don’t hurt me._

_Please don’t give me to them._

_Toru-san._

_Toru-san…_

“You’ve come after my precious one,” he can hear the yakuza say, his chest rumbling with each word spoken, “After the display and warning I’ve given earlier, you still blatantly ignore it. Do you know what does bring you, boy?”

Taka was sure that the man was older than the redhead, but Toru-san’s voice I low and threatening—booming on all corners of the hallway and he realized that even full-grown men would definitely fall on their knees just by hearing him talk like that.

“Death,” the leader spat, making Taka flinched in his protective hold, “A slow, slow painful death—I will tear you to pieces of flesh and bones and I’ll feed you your—,”

“No need to do that, Toru.”

Taka abruptly looked up from the yakuza’s chest when a new voice—a new person suddenly spoke. He…certainly has the guts to interrupt the leader when he’s spouting threats, huh? With a blurry vision, Taka squinted his eyes to the newcomer—long auburn hair, tied in a low ponytail and swept over his shoulder. He’s not wearing a suit like everybody else, but a burgundy _kimono_ and white _hakama_ tied by a white _obi._ He’s pale and there’s a cat-like smile on his thin lips as he stalked towards the center of the commotion. Toru-san muttered a few curse, making Taka look up at him in confusion—chin propped on his chest, in a very child-like manner.

“W-who...?” he croaked out.

The yakuza glanced down at him and in an instant, the scary look on his face was wiped out. Instead, a smile graced his lips— _amused? Delighted?_ —as he threaded his fingers on his hair, effectively ruining it and allowing the curly locks to bounce over his forehead and eyes.

“You’ll see…”

“Since this happened in my grounds, and my men of all people,” the man said as another suited yakuza walked forward, offering a katana to the auburn-haired newcomer, “I shall exalt punishment on my own kin through the ways of our blade.”

Kin?

_He’s…he’s also—_

“Fuck the blade, mou!” Tomoya whined, stepping a bit harder on the man, “Let’s use all of our bullets to this man, Aniki! He dared to touch Taka-chan!”

Taka had never heard the green-haired yakuza like that—like he’s ready to pounce and kill just for someone like him. But the leader shook his head and nodded towards the waiting newcomer.

“Let this be done on their way,” he said in a deceivingly calm voice, “Because if not, then I will _obliterate_ your entire clan…”

The man dismissively waved a hand before turning to his subordinate, “You have shamed our house, and tried to lay your hands on someone else’s property—,”

Taka wanted to say that he’s no one’s property but he held his tongue. His sassy shits are obviously not needed in this moment.

“No, no, n-no—,” the man on the ground shook his head while Tomoya jumped away as the kimono-clad man made his way towards the assailant, drawing the blade from its sheath, “You said— _you said_ —,”

And even before Taka could blink, blood— _thick, vibrantly red blood_ is spraying everywhere and onto everybody when the man sliced the yakuza’s feet—the sharp blade easily cutting into bones, like a hot knife on a block of butter—

“Fu—,”

Taka tried to turned his head away, to shield his eyes when the newcomer raised his katana once again, but Toru-san—Yamashita—the bastard turned him around, until his back is flushed on the man’s chest and grabbed his jaws to force him to watch as the blade cut the man’s thighs—just above his knees, with blood spluttering everywhere once more.

There were screams and Taka is shaking his head, trying to back away, to get away because this is too much, too fucking much for his mind to handle—

“I, I don’t want to see—,” he desperately said, struggling, but the yakuza held him on his waist, his lips almost touching his ear as he propped his chin over Taka’s shoulder.

“ _Look,_ Takahiro,” he drawled while Taka furiously shook his head, “This is what I’ll do to anyone who will dare to touch you, you understand?”

Another slash of sword—this time, landing on the man’s arms. The screams turned to shrikes and hoarse gasps of air. The man is barely alive, eyes wide and unseeing as his limbs were cut off from his body.

Too much.

Too brutal.

Too ruthless.

_Inhumane._

“See?” Toru-san asked in a low voice, “Everyone under my command would commit _the bloodiest murder_ in your name, Takahiro.”

“I—I don’t want…f-fuck that shit—,”

“And this will be a message to everyone else—,”

Taka helplessly whimpered when fingers went flying into the air, the sound of the sharp metal slicing across bones and flesh so loud in his ears.

“N-no more… _no more…_ ”

“—that anyone who will dare to defile you,” his jaws were jerked up, forcing him to look at the wide, crazy face of the redheaded yakuza, “I will kill them all, even more vicious than this.”

Taka could see the sword-wielding man impale his katana on the assailant’s chest—straight right on his heart—and the lights finally went out of those blank eyes. Taka nodded, whimpered and tried to snuggle deeper into the man’s embrace. Toru-san said nothing as he turned him around and embraced him—gentle and protecting and Taka should’ve never felt safe while being hugged by another killer but…but…

_He’ll keep me safe._

_He’ll keep me alive._

_He’ll keep Hiroki alive._

Safe…

Safe…

_I’m safe with him—_

Violent fits of sobs wracked his entire frame after that. Home, he wants to go home. Or anywhere, really. He won’t even complain if the bastard would bring him to his cursed penthouse—anywhere out of this hellhole—because he can still smell the blood, he can see the crimson liquid pooling on his shoes, he can hear the hushed silence and whisperings of the men around them, he could hear the man’s screams, begging’s and pleas—the awful sound of sword impaling a body, slicing parts and limbs and sick—

Taka feels sick because he had seen a _glimpse_ of the bloody ways of the yakuza.

And to think that he would see more because of his affiliation— _albeit forced_ —with the leader…it makes him wanna vomit his intestines out at the sheer vileness of it.

“We’ll go home soon,” the man said against his hair, and Taka was too tired to argue that there’s no such thing as “our” home, “but first, let’s meet the person I’ve been talking about.”

Taka froze when he heard footsteps, and was forced to pull his face—puffy eyed and tear-streaked cheeks—from the man’s chest to look at the person he’s talking about.

He was greeted by the sword-wielding man—blood painting his _kimono_ and _hakama,_ his hand holding a sword where the red liquid is dropping from—there were also splashes of blood smearing across his pale face, but amidst the gore surrounding him and his entire body, the man is smiling down at him.

_Peacefully._

Like a saint in the middle of a bloodbath.

“It’s nice to finally meet the one who’s making my childhood friend occupied these days,” the man softly said, making Taka’s blood turned cold in fear and disbelief, “I am the _oyabun_ of the Satoh clan,” he said before he held Taka’s hand in his bloodied ones, raised it— _and much to Taka’s horror_ —planted a soft, delicate kiss on the cold, freezing hand—

“I am Satoh Takeru.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be divided into parts but I decided against it coz nah, let the shit goes so we could have sexy ones in the next updates.
> 
> Please tell me what you think of it~!
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	16. When did I Stopped Searching for Miracles?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe thaf it's almost a month since we had the last update. Here's a lame one to make up for that.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is just a product of my imagination and there would be no way in hell that the characters would do such act.

“That was some _crazy_ theatrics, Toru…”

Said head of the yakuza clan lazily took his gaze off the slumped form of Takahiro to glance at the other _oyabun_ sitting across him in that lavished room. The party is still going on downstairs, but after the bloodshed that occurred a few minutes ago, he decided that it would be _too much_ if he’ll force Takahiro to face those silly guests again.

 _Besides, everyone would definitely want to take a hold onto him after that performance he pulled earlier, h_ e smugly thought, the sense of pride and possessiveness swirling within his chest. Taka looks so good, like _an_ _angel in dark suit_ , perched on the stool and small, nimble fingers fluidly fluttering across the ivory keys. And his voice— _god, his voice_ —it’s completely like an angel’s and he will not be surprised if people from recording studios would like to recruit him or something.

Not that he’ll allow it anyways.

 _Takahiro is mine_ , he fiercely thought as he threw another long glance at the trembling man, _and that pretty voice is only mine to hear!_

Taka is sitting on a corner table, across Tomoya who is busy stuffing his mouth with cakes and fruits _WHEN_ Toru had instructed him to make Takahiro feel better, not _devour_ every single piece of food on the goddamned table—

“You’re _looking_ at him,” Satoh spoke again, this time, with a disbelieving tone on his words. Toru finally focused his attention towards his childhood friend, “You’re actually looking at him like a _love struck kid_!” he said, throwing his back and laughing out loud like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Then Toru pulled his gun out and shot the auburn-haired yakuza right on his head.

…

In his dreams. He wouldn’t kill Takeru, because he still needs something from the other yakuza so not _yet_. He smirked and crossed his legs, propping his chin on his fingers as he regarded the _kimono_ -clad man.

“What is it to you? I can look at him _however_ I want to because he’s _mine_ ,” he casually said, a small smirk playing on his lips when Takeru visibly straightened up at that. He knows the hidden _threats_ , the hidden _message_ that there would be repercussions if he would lay a single touch on what’s his, on Takahiro, and that those _repercussions_ will not only affect him but his whole family, his entire clan and Toru won’t stop until he had turned the Satoh- _gumi_ into ashes and mere _memories_ from this cold, cruel world. “And stop looking at him, you’re making him even nervous than he already is.”

“And _you_ , looking at him, _doesn’t_?” Takeru retorted, eyes narrowing in accusation as his voice went lower, “You who asked me to murder one of my men just for what? Make the boy _cling_ to you for his dear life?”

The smile on Toru’s lips never faltered yet his eyes burned deeper at that. “It was _you_ who murdered your own kin to save your ass from the last stint you pulled in our shipments.”

Takeru smiled and tilted his head, “Fair enough. And speaking of shipment, I heard that the latest one from Russia were good. You _might_ as well give some to the boy before you fuck him—,” Toru glared, his fingers drumming on the armrests in an attempt to prevent himself from just pulling out his gun and shot this man to his miserable death—or torture him, cut his fingers one by one, or pulled off those nails or drown him, _burn_ him—, “—Might make him think he _actually_ likes it.”

Toru hated how those sculpted lips curl in a condescending smile—like a _fox’s_ , hiding secretes and traps, baiting him to lose his cool over such simple words, “…or you’ve always _thought_ that the tears he cries are from his _overwhelming_ love for you—,”

“ _Whatever_ tears he shed,” Toru cut him off with a blank mask on, not really keen on admitting that the other yakuza had pressed a button. _Kitsune’s_ are sly creatures of the wild, and even a small gap, a small display of weakness and emotion could be used fatally against him so Toru didn’t let his emotion betray his facial expressions, he’s got a nice poker face after all, “—it’s all for _me_ , be it from _pain_ or _pleasure_ \--,” he hissed before leaning on the backrest of the plush seat, “It’s all mine and you’d better take your damned eyes off him if you don’t want me gouging it out with my own fingers, Satoh Takeru.”

The damned _kitsune_ arched his brow, smiling as he, too, leaned back on his seat, crossing his legs and gesturing for him to speak again.

“ _Well_ , _well_ , what is this? My childhood friend who would casually toss away his affairs is now getting _protective_ of someone? It’s very _unusual_ for you, Toru,” he drawled, before casting a side glance to Takahiro—and _oh_ did Toru’s fingers twitched in annoyance and desire to just gouge those nasty eyeballs—, “It makes me _curious_ , after all, what does this boy has to catch your very _elusive_ fancy?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Takahiro wasn’t _sure_ how would he describe the events of that night. He felt so scared and jumpy, which is just the expected reaction when you have a bloody murder happening right in front of your eyes. Every time he would close his eyes, he could see the blood— _bright and red and warm_ —splattering across the walls and the floors and around everyone and everything. The bastard had even made him to change his clothes, a suit similar to his—because the _motherfucker is a damn boy scout,_ who always prepared an extra set of clothes—

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“It’s because they _always_ get stained with blood,” Tomoya helpfully said, as if he’s reading his mind, while holding up the trousers and coat for Taka, “Aniki prefers walking out of the _scene_ without any blood on his clothes. Maybe, that’s what he’s thinking so he prepared another set for you?”

 _I doubt it,_ Taka snorted and grabbed the coat, sniffing and blinking—the rims of his eyes red and puffy from all the whimpering and sobbing he did earlier—, he probably prepared this because he’s planning to do something dirty to Taka.

He decided to ignore the implication of the word _scene_.

Was it a crime scene?

Does that man always have to kill people? And he would just walk out of the “ _scene_ ” wearing another set of clothes—looking clean and fresh as if he didn’t just _gut_ or _blasted_ someone’s brain out his skull?

Were those lives were as trivial as another set of suit?

Taka decided that his brain isn’t ready for digging the answers to those questions. He just wanted to go home and rest—just…just away from these suit-wearing murderers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

But no, the damned bastard decided to stay, pulling Taka and Tomoya inside a very ornate room, the aroma of food lingering in the air but Taka couldn’t really bring himself to take even just one bite. It _sickens_ him, the way Tomoya could munch away as if he’s not threatening to kill someone just a few minutes ago; it _sickens_ him, the way those two head of yakuza speak and smiles at each other, as if they just didn’t commit a bloody murder earlier.

 _They’re demons, T_ aka thought, cruel, cold-blooded demons hiding inside the skin of humans.

And it _sickens_ him, the way those two would look towards his direction, stealing glances before smirking and speaking in low, hushed tones that make Taka’s skin crawl.

_What the heck are they talking about now?!_

_Obviously you, stupid,_ his mind snapped back. _Maybe the Toru-san is already tired of your dramas and he’s now asking the other yakuza to buy you or someshit._

Taka froze at that, eyes wide and staring right through Tomoya’s stuffed cheeks. The green-haired yakuza looks like an innocent kid while eating like that, without a care in the world and Taka would love to coo at him if his mind isn’t just too preoccupied at the moment.

_Since when did the bastard became Toru-san?_

And more importantly, since when did he feared the moment that the yakuza would get tired of him?

 _Didn’t_ he wanted for the man to leave him? _Didn’t_ he wanted to go back in his normal life?

So what’s this…

This…

Sense of _abandonment_...?

“Takahiro.”

Taka jumped on his seat when the deep voice of the red-head yakuza suddenly boomed across the room. He looked away from Tomoya’s chipmunk-like face and turned towards the two yakuza on the other side of the room. The redhead—bastard— _Toru_ - _san_ is looking at him expectantly, one hand raised as if beckoning him to come to him by a mere call of his name.

_And he really thinks that I would just come to him? Like a fucking pet?!_

Taka’s cheeks flushed in indignation and he really, really wanted to flash a dirty finger to that pompous man—the desperate clinginess and need to be safe and protected was just a _memory_ now—but then, the bastard cocked his head—a few more maroon strands falling on his forehead—, _“Come or else…”_ he seems to be saying without actually uttering any word.

Taka gulped, his fingers digging on his clothed thighs as he debated with himself—a side of him wants to stay away, say _“go fuck yourself, I’m not your dog!_ ” to the man because he deserves it, but another part of him—the _unfamiliar, dark part of his brain is telling him to go—_ whether it’s because he’s scared of the repercussions, or because he seeks protection and a sense of being safe by being beside him, Taka _wouldn’t_ know.

But then, the auburn-haired yakuza was also looking at him, his narrowed eyes watching every flicker of hesitation and doubt on Taka’s face. it irks him. He’s not…not for _display_ , not to be used for someone else’s entertainment.

 _He’s his enemy, hi_ s mind said, _he wants to see your yakuza fail in taming you._

 _And what of it? Let him fall,_ he haughtily thought, _let him crash the way I did_. But this stubborn part of him says otherwise, sees the kimono-wearing man as a threat to Toru-san and decided that it’s not good. _Without_ him, Taka would be left to fend for himself in this dungeon filled with wolves. _Without_ Toru-san, Taka would be torn into pieces, Hiro would be alone, and would die. And Taka doesn’t want that.

He needs to be alive—even just until Hiro would be free from his illness. Even just till then.

And this man—Toru-san could do it. _He_ _promised_ , Taka gripped the armrest of the chair as he slowly pushed himself off the cushion, ignoring how a smirk made its way on the redhead at his actions, _he promised me._

_A yakuza never breaks his word—_

_Never trust a yakuza—_

_Yamashita Toru never breaks his word—_

Taka bit his lips as he took wobbly steps towards the man, the distance between them seemed to stretched, like a scorching dessert—the looks he’s getting from the three other occupants of the room were scathing his skin and he wants out, wants safety, security, wants—

“Good boy,” he blinked, realizing that he had actually made it, and that Toru-san is now holding his hand—gently, thumb brushing against the pale skin of his own hand—before he pulled him to sit beside him. The couch is too large for a single person, hence why Taka’s petite form could easily squeeze into it—a soft gasp escaping his lips at the warm contact between him and the yakuza. The yakuza who’s now leaning down to whisper to his red-tipped ears, “I really like it when you’re acting like an _obedient_ kitty, Takahiro—,”

His eyes widened the size of the fucking universe, even more when he realized that the other yakuza—Satoh Takeru, he said—has been watching them all these time—

“You fucking _per_ —,”

“But I love it the most when you’re putting up a fight, even if you’re fully aware that it’s futile.”

 _Mpfgggg_ …

He inwardly groaned, skin flushing red like that of a tomato as he squirmed on his seat, the man leaning away with a smug look on his annoyingly handsome face.

_I will fucking kick your balls, yakuza or not._

“So,” the man across them finally poke, amusement dancing on his eyes, “Toru asked for a favor from me, and that includes your brother, am I correct?”

_How can this man even help us?_

Taka was hesitant but he just nodded.

“He doesn’t look like it,” Toru-san was saying beside him, an arm snaking down to his waist to pull him even closer—if that’s even possible—, “but he’s the greatest heart surgeon in the country—,”

Taka’s eyes snapped towards the smiling man, “No fucking way!”

“ _Ouch_ —,”

“Yes _fucking_ way, Takahiro,” the redhead yakuza said, “And he could help your brother, wouldn’t you like that?”

Taka’s eyes trailed towards the yakuza—this time, slow and unsure and..and kinda _hopeful_ because… _he_ could do it— _these people could do what Taka failed to d_ o—these people could make Hiro live—live longer and healthier and actually enjoy his life—

_Everything that Taka had dreamt of._

“Y-yes,” he shakily said, eyes glistening in hope, and for the first time, he wasn’t repulsed by the smile plastered on the redhead’s thin lips.

 _Everything_ for Hiroki.

“Good,” Satoh-san said, effectively breaking the atmosphere between Taka and Toru-san, “Just like what my friend—,”

“I’m _not_ your friend,”

“—said, I’m a licensed surgeon,” Satoh-san conveniently ignored the harsh comment. What, are these two really friends? Why are they looking like they couldn’t wait to go for each other’s throat any moment from now? In fact, Taka could feel the proverbial cackling of the air around them because of the glares and smiles the two were giving to each other. “And based on your brother’s medical records, there would be a succession of operations.”

Taka decided to not focus on the obvious animosity between these two “friends” to focus on what the kimono-clad yakuza is saying. _Oh, so he’s a doctor huh._ Now, Taka is ready to talk. But _first_.

“How…” he started, “How did you even got Hiroki’s medical records?! Isn’t it supposed to be confidential?!”

The two men exchanged meaningful looks. And smirks. Like fucking devils and Taka needed no _more_ explanations.

 _Of-fucking-course_. These people could stalk and kill people, use money to cover their tracks, so getting their grubby hands on his brother’s medical files was probably _just like a walk in a goddamned park._

“Silly, Takahiro,” the redhead demon started beside him, “You should’ve known that—,”

“You can move mountains and part seas, yeah I know,” Taka rolled his eyes, ignoring how Satoh-san and even Tomoya, in a distance, visibly gawked because there’s probably just a few persons who have the balls to interrupt the man while he’s talking about his retarded ass. And probably all of those people were now _dead_ or _mutilated_ by now, all of them, except for Taka—and he doesn’t know if he should be glad, thrilled or scared because of Toru-san’s lack of reaction about his sardonic remarks.

Instead he just raised a brow, the corner of his lips turning up in a smirk before leaning back on the seat again—his hand hot and heavy on Taka’s side, idly tracing patterns on the clothed skin.

He ignored it. He just hopes that there wasn’t a vibrant scarlet exploding high on his cheeks as he faced Satoh-san again.

“But…but the doctors…” he said, brows furrowing in confusion and hesitation, “the doctors said that it’ll be dangerous to open him up. That it might actually kill him instead of…instead of saving him…”

To his surprise, Satoh-san waved a dismissive hand at him, “They’re absolutely right, but you see, I’m not _most_ of the doctors you’ve gone to. Though the process would be arduous and dangerous, it’s not _impossible_.”

Oh.

Taka blinked. Gulping as he leaned back on Toru-san’s shoulder—relief flooding through his system and…and _hope_...?

Because then…then Hiroki would…

“S-so,” he cleared his throat, “So you can do it? You can save him?”

Satoh-san straightened up on his seat, eyes glinting as he smiled, wide and without showing any teeth—it reminds Taka of foxes for some unknown reason, but he won’t back down because foxes can be easily devoured by dragons— _strong, mighty dragons_ —as he regarded him with a serious look on his face.

“Absolutely,” he said with so much confidence that Taka feels relief surging through his veins, “But, how about you? Are you willing to pay the _price_?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was _priceless_ —the way how the boy’s eyes widened in shock when Takeru uttered those words. Oh, Toru had actually done a good job on picking his toys this time. _Takahiro_ —the boy’s name—looks so fucking _edible_ at that moment—curly black strands falling and covering most of his wide, glassy almond-shaped eyes. Even from his seat, he could see those mile-long lashes, the blush dusting on his cheeks. His mouth, puffy and full and oh-so red, was parted open, gasps spilling from them as the boy desperately tried to calm himself down.

_What price would you pay?_

Takeru was a curious being. The moment his childhood friend—Toru, who would rather kill everyone to attain his goal—asked for a little favor _in the name of this Takahiro_ , his interest was already piqued. Who was this _man_? What did he do to make Toru ask for favors, when he was so used on getting them without even breaking a sweat? What does he have to be with Toru’s side for a few weeks, or months even? Why is he still _alive_?

Takeru grew up with the red-head and even though their clans were like the polar opposites of each other, they still managed to catch up with all the shits they’re up to. It’s no secret to him how the leader of the Yamashita clan would dispose his previous lovers, either by shutting them up with loads of money or by simply dumping them somewhere in the city for the crows to feast on.

He doesn’t _allow_ lovers to stay long.

He easily gets bored, so, who on earth was this Takahiro to made Toru changed like that?

He watched as the boy unconsciously clutched Toru’s arm before turning towards his friend with a terrified look on his face, “W-what the fuck?! Do you think I have money to pay all the shits?! You told me you’re gonna save Hiroki!”

Takeru’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at that—that blatant display of disrespect towards the maroon-haired yakuza. What? _What on earth?!_ This…This Takahiro had really the guts to talk to him like that huh? And even amidst the visible shaking of his frame, the boy is still glaring at his friend—full-force and with so much ferocity that if looks could kill, Yamashita Toru would just drop dead _right there and then._

_Interesting._

He covered his mouth to hide the wide grin that was about to split his lips. That man is interesting. And he certainly looks like an eye-candy too. He wonders on what Takahiro look like whenever Toru is fucking him against the mattress— _or any hard surface,_ for that matter.

“I am,” Toru said, smirking—which is a rare feat itself because whenever his childhood friend would smile like _that_ , there would always be blood _splattering_ around him—, “I’ll be paying for every expenses and fees, just like what I’ve promised.”

Takahiro’s eyes grew dark and dazed at that. What was that _promise_? What does Takahiro promised this yakuza—what does a merely _nothing man_ could promise to the _mighty_ leader who almost have everything in this world?

And more importantly, what does Toru wants from him?

“So calm down,” he said, ruffling the messy locks and making Takahiro scowl even further, slapping Toru’s hand away from his head like he’s not dealing with a notorious murderer, “Everything would be taken care of, so don’t worry your pretty little head—,”

“Did you just implied that I have a _small_ brain—,”

“Takeru,” the fellow yakuza regarded him with a stiff look on his face, “You’ll be doing the surgery and I want his brother getting out of your hospital alive and healthy, or else, I’ll _have_ your head.”

He loves how Takahiro’s head whipped towards him, curly hair bouncing around him at the sudden movement as his brows knitted in— _dare I say it—_ worry. Which is weird, because the boy should never feel empathy with people like him—especially with people like him and Toru because showing emotions could be deadly in their world.

“And if I succeed?” he asked, because there’s also no such thing as “free favors” in their world, “What would I gain?”

Toru didn’t even blink before he answered—like he had prepared his response a decade ago to that particular question, “The trading route you wanted in East Asia,” he said, making Takeru’s mouth hanged wide open, “You can use them as much as you want. Isn’t it what you’ve been dying for to covet from me since the beginning?”

Takeru felt his throat dried up at that. He had staged multiple attempts to dethroned the Yamashita clan from ruling that route—where all their contrabands and arms and trades entry from Russia and other Western Countries. They had guarded it, fight it tooth for nail, and Toru will be sharing it without even putting up a bloody fight?

What the hell?

_Who is this…this…_

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Toru suddenly grinned and pulled the bowl of berries from the table. Takahiro also looked at him oddly, because you don’t just go eating strawberries after threatening to decapitate a friend, but _hey, it’s Yamashita Toru we’re talking about_ here and the man _obviously_ have some loose screws on his head so _yeah_.

Takeru watched when Toru grabbed Takahiro by the back of his skull, forcing the man whose eyes were glaring knives and everything sharp on the leader, with his mouth clamped shut in an attempt to avoid the fruit from entering his mouth.

“Takahiro must be hungry,” he said to no one else, ignoring the sets of “ _Mppphhh_!!!” and trashing from the poor boy, “He hasn’t eaten since we arrived so I must feed him.”

Takeru wanted to face palm at that.

“Come on, Takahiro, open your pretty little mouth for me,” he rasped out and that’s probably the cue to leave the two into their fucking activities— _I mean, look, even his minion has already chocked on his food and is now running towards the door, probably to save his ears and eyes from bleeding while witnessing some live passionate moments_ —but Takeru couldn’t take his gaze away from Takahiro’s face—flushed, tears welling in the corners of his eyes, cheeks burning hot and red and a fresh, bright strawberry gently being pushed onto his closed lips.

He looked so _helpless_.

He looked so…so…

Takeru gulped.

“Don’t I deserve some reward for doing some good deals for you?” Toru said and Takeru knows that all fight has been lost with those words. Takahiro’s eyes grew wide, shy and hesitant, before casting a terrified, bashful look on Takeru.

The leader of the Satoh-clan zoned his eyes towards the boy—meet those pleading, glassy eyes—before they focused on the maroon-haired yakuza to slowly part his full, full lips. Takeru felt something unfamiliar stir within him at the sight of those plump lips accepting the fruit, juices spilling and staining his chin, rolling down to his clothes—his face had this look of pure defeat as he munched on the offered fruit without any more resistance.

And Takeru probably _also_ have some _loose_ screws on his head for finding that act—that simple act of eating a goddamned strawberry— _arousing_.

“Good, _good_ boy,” Toru said, shameless as ever—his thumb running over the plump lips before leaning forward for a wet, open mouthed kiss. It was brief, but Takahiro’s face of confusion, of hesitation and distress quickly morphing into that of want, of desire, of pleasure—hands clutching Tour’s clothes, effectively ruining it as sinful sounds spilled from his mouth.

He was obviously gawking, that’s probably why Toru casted him a pissed off look, “What?” he spat, “Do you want to watch or you’ll gonna leave?”

Takeru’s eyes landed on the flushed form of Takahiro, who’s desperately trying to make himself look smaller and just disappear into Toru’s suit, the tips of his ears burning red in humiliation.

“I…” he started, his eyes trailing towards Toru—Toru who’s cocking a brow at him, a wide, smug grin plastered on his face, like saying that this— _these expressions and sounds and responses were all mine—th_ at this Takahiro is all mine, “This is my house so you can’t just kick me out of this room!”

Toru gave him a blank look.

Takeru cleared his throat and bolted up from his seat, “Whatever, just don’t make too much mess!” he flailed his arms and rushed towards the door, his system aching for something and even if he had already slammed the door shut, the image of Takahiro’s face filled with tears and pleasure was still burned right into his mind.

 _No wonder why Toru has been hooked on him,_ he thought as he passed by Tomoya who’s dutifully guarding the door, walking through the corridor, but it’s scary, on _how much power he holds over Toru…_

Takeru paused, looking at the vast expanse of green lawn across the French windows. The night is still young, the sound of the party being held below is lingering in the air, but he couldn’t care less because for a moment, he thought of something brilliant—a plan to finally kick the Yamashita Clan off the throne of the Japanese Underground society.

He crossed his hands under the sleeves of his haori and stared at the bright moon hovering on the cloudless sky before smiling.

_Takahiro would be your downfall, oh-Mighty Yamashita Toru._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Y-you—,” Taka breathes through his nose as Toru-san lapped on the juices trailing down the flushed column of his neck. He _couldn’t_ remember when the _kimono_ -clad yakuza had left the room, nor when was the exact moment he was pulled onto the man’s lap, straddling the strong thighs as the yakuza forced feed him berries after berries—the red mess trailing down and staining his once upon a time pristine suit. “You—you really don’t ha— _ah_ —ve an ounce of shame, do y-you?”

 _Goddammit_ , he really hates the way he trembled whenever those lips suck and bit the exposed flesh of his shoulders, travelling up to the sensitive spot behind his ears before nipping his ear, a warm, wet tongue slipping past the delicate curved lobe, “What’s there to be ashamed of?”

Tremors run deep into his bones as the man muttered those words against his ear.

_Fuuuuuck—seriously?! He’s gonna do it—we’re gonna do it, right here, right now?!_

“We’ve settled a good deal, your brother would be saved,” Taka whimpered as another strawberry magically appeared right before his lips. He stared on the sinful fruit, before chomping on it, messily, unrefined, licking his lips without noticing how Toru’s eyes glinted in hunger and lust, “And all you have to do is to bend on my will, surrender everything. Besides…”

A soft gasp erupted from Taka’s moist, crimson-painted lips when the yakuza yanked his shirt down, tearing the white undershirt and making buttons fling into the air in one smooth motion. The sound of fabric getting ripped was so loud in Taka’s ears, his body breaking into goosebumps as the cold air hit the now-exposed skin of his chest.

“T-that was my only clothes, you— _nh_!”

Taka cried out— _startled and wanton_ —the strawberry juices streaking down the sides of his lips, over his chin and onto his bruised neck and chest, his hand unconsciously rising to gripped the man’s head, burying his fingers into the silky maroon tresses as he watched, _dazed and gasping_ as Toru-san bent down and licked it all the way up—laving the rough flat of his tongue against Taka’s nipples, suckling and biting until they were of a debauched, deep red.

“...You…” Taka, teary-eyed and panting, looked down to see the man glancing up at him, his warm, moist mouth hovering over his sensitive, very sensitive flesh—eyes dark and intense, threatening to swallow Taka’s sanity—and for a moment, he felt this urge to scratch his blunt nails on the inked expanse of his back, run his fingers, tracing the bumps where the _ink bleeds into skin,_ following the path of each and every scale of that dragon he hates so much—making Taka’s pupils blown wide, “You look so _good_ in red, Takahiro…”

_Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up and…and—_

He arched his head back, fingers clutching the red strands of hair for some kind of anchor, while having this inward debate with himself—like, on why he’s allowing this to happen? Why was he easy to _succumb_ to the man’s advances? _Where_ did all the fights, the struggles within him had went to? Where did all the nasty words had gone to?

Why is he…moaning and moving and panting like a cat in heat, allowing himself to be like _putty_ in the man’s hands, like an _instrument_ being played like this?

Was it because of Hiroki?

Was it because of _gratitude_?

Because somehow, he knows that there would be a good outcome after this? Because he feels like he owed something to this man?

The same man who debauched him, wanted to claim and mark him— _raped_ him countless of times—right from the start? The man who _bombed_ an entire establishment, the man who’s practically _blackmailing_ Takahiro, using Hiroki against him—using Hiroki’s wellbeing and safety and bright future against him?

Or was it something else?

Taka stared at the lavished chandelier above them—the crystals shining and reflecting light like diamonds hanging into the air, his hips bucking in response when he feels the man let out an amused growl on his chest. He can feel the now familiar palms ghost across his chest, finding and tweaking one of his nipples—cruel and harshly—making Takahiro gasped. _Pleasure and pai_ n and discomfort and desire coursed through him and pooling down into his crotch.

_Oh no, no, I can’t be—You can’t be—_

But it was _too_ late, the leader has already reached down to his tights, pulling down his trousers in one go and exposing his very hard, very aching boner for all the world to see. Taka’s face burned a brighter red at that, hugging and pulling the man closer—until his face smashed against his naked chest in an attempt to prevent him from looking down and see how his touches and kisses and bites affected Taka down there.

“What’s _this_ —,” came the muffled reply, Taka vehemently shook his head and hugged the head against him so tightly it’s a _miracle_ that the bastard is still alive and breathing—it turns out that he had perched his chin on Taka’s collarbones, looking up at him with ferociously dark eyes, while his hand trailed downwards, get a hold of Taka’s erection, “You’re already hard?”

Takahiro tried to protest, to say that, _fuck no! As if!_ But it came out sounding like a needy whimper, even to his own ears.

“Ah, Takahiro…”

There was something in the way his name was uttered that make Taka’s inside melt like fucking goo—it was said like a _breathless_ prayer, like a chant full of _reverence_ , with the yakuza’s breath fanning warm against the column of Taka’s neck. Takahiro wordlessly cried out, instinctly thrusting into the tight, strong grip that had magically formed around his cock. It feels so _good_ , and the fact that they’re doing this in someone else’s house—to a stranger’s house surely added to the allure of the moment. And those fingers—gods—those fingers were tight and warm and accommodatingly pumping him.

_No, no, no—_

He hiccupped, pleasured sobs stringing out of his mouth as he feels his climax to be so near, just a few more thrusts, just a bit tighter and then—and then—

And then Toru-san suddenly stopped.

There was a loud, unfamiliar _whine_ that came out of his mouth at that, eyes wide and pupils blown dark, his hips still trembling and bucking—seeking the heavenly friction that suddenly abandoned his member.

He was so close!

_So fucking close!_

“Easy, Taka,” the bastard said, grinning as he pulled away and producing another piece of the accursed fruit out of thin air— _I mean, where did those fucking berries came from?!_ He wanted to slap the man across his stupid face and shoved all those berries right down his throat! He had been so close!

“ _Motherfucker_!” he hissed, but his complaints were cut short when the strawberry was shoved into his mouth, “ _Mphhppp_!!!”

It happened too fast and before he knows it, Toru-san already pulled his red tie loose from his collar, the sound of silk sliding against the fabric of his clothes were like the nail on his fucking coffin because there’s no way in hell that the yakuza would—

He bit the berry into half, spilling mess every-fucking-where when the man wrapped the neck tie at the base of his cock, effectively cutting his every chance to come—

“Y0-you cruel basta— _ahr_ —d,” he keened, doubling over when the yakuza carelessly stroke his length— _rough and fast,_ and he can feel his release boiling and boiling—but goddammit there would be no release—

“N- _noooo_ ,” he whimpered, tears streaming down his face in frustration as Toru-san chuckled, leaning up to lick the juices drabbling over his chin. He wanted to elbow the man’s face but his body was _too_ _busy_ to seek release, his hips starting to gyrate and grind onto the clothed bulge beneath him, trying to knock off the damn tie and come— _Jesus fucking Christ, let me come—_

“If doing favors for you would make you like this,” Taka turned his face away when Toru-san started nipping on his chin, one hand supporting the small of his back, the other busy tormenting his aching cock between them, “Pliant and obedient and so hot for me, then maybe I should do it more often...?”

Taka’s eyes fluttered open, tears clinging onto his lashes as he glared mightily at him, “F-fuck off!”

Toru-san blinked before slowly complying—what, no, _no_ —leaning away and stopping all ministrations onto Taka’s body— _come back, dammit!_

“As you wish.”

Taka flushed in frustration and humiliation, he feels like a child being denied of sweets when he’s obviously craving— _dying_ —for it.

“F-fuck you!” he weakly said, fisting his trembling hands onto the man’s shoulder.

“Crying already?” _oh-fuck, go_ d knows how much Taka wanted to wipe that lopsided smile and heavily lidded-eyes off his damn face at that damn moment, “I thought you wanted me to, _what was that again?_ Fuck off?”

Takahiro wanted to say something but he was weak in pure agony. His vision is getting blurry with tears, his entire frame trembling as he feels the knot wrapped around his member. It feels so strange and he wants to feel good, but the bastard won’t give it to him and—

And holy fuck Takahiro, since when did you started to ask him for it? _Ask the bastard to give it to you, you perverted asshole?!_

He whimpered in need.

“But if you want, we could continue this,” he said, another strawberry materializing onto his hand, “Come on, open up for me and I’ll give it to you, Takahiro,” he said, before putting the smaller piece of fruit between his teeth.

Taka blankly stared at him. Then at the fruit.

 _Huh_.

Was the bastard expecting that he’ll just dive towards those lips just because he’s o hos sexually frustrated?

Hell _no_.

…

…

…

Taka bit his lip as he looked down on his exposed member—standing proud and strained between them. His dick ached so badly and his balls were probably swollen by now. He whimpered, again, wanting to come so _badly_ it’s starting to really _hurt_ by now. he sat there, frozen for a few seconds—too weak to struggle, his sense getting sliced in equal parts of discomfort and that motherfucking searing, blinding pleasure.

He glanced at the man again, who’s looking stupidly handsome—stupid, but still _handsome nonetheless_ —while waiting for him to take any action. Then he smirked and Taka lost it all. _Damn, damn, what do you really want from me, you bastard?!_

The Taka was surging forward, biting half of the berry, momentarily munching on it before a warm, slick tongue invaded his mouth—plundering and exploring every corners, tasting and sucking his own tongue in a sinful, wet dance. He can feel the man smirked triumphantly against his kiss-swollen lips but he _couldn’t_ care less, _couldn’t_ help the moans and groans from escaping his lips, because he wanted release—completion, ecstasy and _euphoria_ —

Toru-san’s hands enveloped around his cock, warm and heavenly tight, pushing Taka, making him arc his back even further, moving up and down as Taka mindlessly thrust into the confines of it, bouncing on his lap like a complete whore. His mind was heady with pleasure, even more when the yakuza trailed his hot lips over his neck, making his way down to his chest to give more attention to his chest, and the pleasure from almost everywhere overloaded his senses—

Takahiro _sobbed_ , crying wordlessly—begging the yakuza to stop and go on at the same time—

_“No more, no m-more!”_

_“D-don’t…stop…please!”_

—but the yakuza didn’t relent, giving pleasure, nipping at those buds, the pains ending tingling pleasures to his brain until Taka was rendered gasping, writhing and making those delicious little cries, even if his back hurts for arching too much. Pain and pleasure, _heaven_ and _hell_ blurs into the horizon and it was so clear who made him forget and throw away all the boundaries—

It was clear who _owned_ him—

It was clear who _controls_ him—

And then Taka was babbling nonsense, looking up at the bright diamonds sparling like myriads of blurry, murky stars above him as the tie was removed from his painful member, Toru-san harshly biting on his nipple—making his voice rang out in the air as the wave of orgasm crashed into him—his blunt nails digging onto clothed shoulders as he tensed and succumb to pleasure—his eyes squeezing tight, but the look of pure adoration and satisfaction on the redhead’s face would be forever committed into his _memory_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You’ll go to Satoh’s hospital next week,” Toru-san was saying, “Tomoya will accompany you there, and he’ll handle everything. Just go with your brother, and go without putting up a fight, alright?”

Taka hummed, making a non-committal grunt as he makes himself comfortable at the far end of the back seat. They were in the car, just a few blocks away from their apartment building. He should be scared that this man could easily tracked his unit, but damn, he probably knows it anyway so why bother on kicking him off the curb?

Besides, Taka’s _tired_. They haven’t had sex in that room, but he feels like he’s _thoroughly_ fucked for _days_. His exhausted deep into his bones, and he still couldn’t wipe that look of pure satisfaction on the man’s face when he had made Taka come just by touching him.

It was so damn _erotic_.

And _arousing_.

And fuck Taka’s _mind_ for being so fucking perverted. Maybe he caught it from the bastard…being _constantly_ horny without any regards for the place and time.

He groaned and pressed his cheeks against the cold window panes, not really caring if there’s a huge space between them. Knowing the yakuza, he’s probably getting pissed because Taka is nowhere beside him, clinging like a fucking koala like he obviously wanted. But then again, he’s tired, and with all the shits he had experienced tonight, he deserves some peace, some distance from the redhead asshole.

“We’ll take the subway,” he rasped out, hugging his clothes—the one he was originally wearing before changing in the man’s unit—the memory seems so distant, like it happened ages ago, in Taka’s mind—, “no need for your seaweed minion to drive us around.”

Toru-san casted a long, weary glance at him.

He blinked back at him.

And then a calloused hand suddenly reached over him, yanked his hair and practically dragged him towards the annoyed yakuza, “I- _itai_ —!”

“Watch your _words_ , Takahiro,” the man sternly said, cupping his chin while his other hand yanked his hair further, tears spilling from Taka’s eyes due to the extreme pain on his scalp, “You might be gaining huge favors from me, but remember your _place_.”

Taka wanted to laugh at that. So that’s what it is. This is how it is all these fucking times.

He was, after all, a _who_ —

_“—you must never regard yourself like that, Taka-chan because Aniki would not take it so lightly. Because if someone would call you like that in front of him, believe me, even if that’s Satoh-san—he’ll definitely make sure that that person would suffer a slow, painful death.”_

He gulped, the pain stinging and making him helplessly nod in agreement. He nodded, tears rolling down on his cheeks, asking himself all over again. How can believe that he’s not some lowly whore when he’s being treated like _one_?

The harsh hold on his hair loosened up, and Taka flinched when those fingers slides against his warm cheeks, gentle, tender, loving caresses fluttering against his cheeks—sending his heart into another _whirlwind_ of emotions and confusion.

“Tomoya would drive you—,” Taka tried to protest but bit his lip instead, knowing that it’ll be futile, “You can tell your brother that the car belongs to him and he’s just a friend wanting to help, hmmm?”

Taka nodded. Because he’s _supposed_ to, like a porcelain doll, like a mindless puppet being controlled by his master.

“And you can use my card,” he said, thrusting a shiny black card into Taka’s tightly fisted palms, “if you need everything—,”

“I don’t need—,”

“Trust me,” the man leaned forward, resting his forehead onto Taka’s, staring down at him with heavily-lidded eyes, the tips of their noses brushing against each other’s, “You’ll need it. Have it just in case, alright?”

Taka tried to look away but the hand gently caressing his cheeks suddenly grabbed his jaws in a strong grip and he was, once again, rendered helpless in front of this man.

 _Why_ …?

Why did he even felt safe with him earlier?

Why did he even want to be beside him, clinging to him earlier?

Why did he wanted his protection, when Taka obviously needs to protect himself from this man?

From the monsters of all monsters.

But despite having those thoughts, Taka numbly nodded, his heart fluttering at the smile that formed on those thin lips as Toru-san planted a soft kiss on his forehead before making his head lay onto his broad shoulder. Taka was speechless, scared, exhausted, empty, full, hopeful, relieved all at the same time that he just let it happen. He closed his eyes, sighed, wanting his night—this long, weary, bloody, passionate night to finally end.

Maybe…maybe tomorrow would be _better_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooow was iiiit?  
> And How are yoooou?
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	17. Things are not Getting Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The past few days and weeks were shit, and this update is lame as usual. Too short. And rushed~
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing so please don't sue me.

“Are you sure we’re going into _that_ Hospital, Niichan?”

Taka blinked out of his stupor when his brother’s soft voice filled the backseat of the now familiar black car. Tomoya, as promised by the redhead bastard, had come to drive them into this... _this…_

His eyes snapped at the tall building, all glass façade with tall strips of concrete parting them. This is one of the most expensive hospital in Tokyo— _no, probably in the entire Japan—_ and even if the yakuza had promised him that they will pay for the expenses, Taka couldn’t shake off the nervousness filling into his system as they drove closer and closer to the building.

_What if—what if they suddenly leave us here—_

_What do I do?!_

_But you’ve got his card, remember?_ Taka swallowed the painful lump forming on his throat, suddenly the slick, black card in his wallet—bearing the man’s name—feels so fucking heavy _, he won’t just abandon you like that._

“Niichan?”

Tired almond-shaped eyes snapped towards the worried face of his brother. _Ah_ , he wondered, he had come this far. He was really reluctant to accept any form of help from the bastard, but struggling is futile and it was his brother’s life on the line, so…

_So…_

“It’s alright,” he said, looking away to hide his suddenly glassy— _what the fuck, why am I being so damn emotional over this shit?!—_ eyes from his brother, “I have a friend in there—,” he doesn’t know if he could refer that long-haired yakuza as his friend, but he’s Toru-san’s ally right? —, “he’ll help us.”

Hiroki gazed at her with worried eyes. It’s not a secret that they’re not that well off, heck that’s the reason itself why Taka is working his ass off—like literally using his ass, dammit, gah—for money so his brother is probably worrying about money, even if he’s not actually saying anything about it.

“Niichan has…” Hiroki quietly mumbled, “Niichan has a lot of new friends these days, huh…”

Taka felt his throat clamping at that.

_New friends, huh...?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Takahiro felt like he’s been thrown in an entirely new world the moment they entered that posh hospital. There’s a flurry of whites and blue all around them, the ceiling was so high with chandeliers rivalling that of hotel lobbies. What— _is this really a hospital?!_

Beside him, Hiroki was clutching the sleeves of his hoodie. He was also looking around, wide eyes sweeping onto every corner of the lavished place.

“A-are you really sure, Niichan?”

Well, Taka is _not really sure_ that he’s supposed to be here. He can feel everyone looking at their direction, people whispering hushed words while staring at them, scrunching up their noses as if they could tell, as if they could smell that Taka and Hiro was not supposed to be here.

“It’s all settled, Taka-chan!”

Both brothers jumped at the booming voice of the seaweed head yakuza as he crossed the distance between them Tomoya has been talking to the receptionist before, handling all the stuffs Takahiro knows shit about.

“Satoh-san would personally see us on the 10th floor,” he said, and maybe it’s just his hopeful imagination, but he could see everyone stiffening at the mention of Satoh-san’s name. He—Taka warily glanced at the yakuza’s face, his lips split in a very wide, very knowing smile— _let them look, let them hear, let them know how important you are_ —as he put his arms over his shoulder, “Now let’s go to the 10th floor!”

Naturally, he had to flip the yakuza off.

“Don’t touch me, gah!” he slapped the arm away, ignoring how the suit-cladded man puffed out his cheeks in hurt.

“But, Taka-chan—,”

“Don’t Taka-chan me, mou! Come on, Hiroki--,” he grabbed his stupefied brother’s hand and led him to the elevator lobby, “Let’s leave this idiot here!”

“Eh, but isn’t he your friend, Niichan?”

Taka was so focused on keeping his eyes on the elevator doors that he had failed to notice how Tomoya’s face visibly brightened up at that innocent comment from his brother.

“Of course I am!” Tomoya chuckled as he ran to matched their pace, “I’m your _Taka-Niichan’s_ friend! I’m Tomoya by the way!”

Taka eyed the numbers on top of the steel doors with great irritation. He can feel his brother’s eyes scanning his expressions before turning those youthful orbs towards the yakuza.

“I’m not calling him Taka-Niichan tho—,”

“Ouch.”

_Serves you right, asshole,_ Taka inwardly smirked as he impatiently tapped his shoes on the marble floor.

“—but it’s nice to formally meet you, Tomoya-san!”

He saw the yakuza grinned at that, before standing too close beside Taka. “Your brother has some sharp tongue, like yours Taka-chan, mou…”

Taka shoved him away and stared at the closing metal doors. He responded by not responding. Tomoya, or any other person from that man’s side doesn’t have to know more stuffs about him or his brother anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Takeru had always thought that Takahiro is a walking mystery. He holds so much power over the most powerful man in the Japanese underground society and yet, he seems to be unaware of that. He’s oblivious, wearing nothing but faded hoodies and jeans, even if he knows that Toru would be more than glad to spend thousands of dollars for the boy’s wardrobe.

_Maybe he just doesn’t want such luxuries?_

Takeru tilted his head, his hair falling across his shoulder as he did so—the auburn tresses creating suck a stark contrast against the white coat he’s donning as he watched the trio walked towards him. He had cleared his schedule just for this—this…

He raked his eyes all over the form of the man—he looks so frail, curly dark locks bouncing with each step he makes. His eyes are wide, apprehensive of their surrounding before they narrowed when he noticed that Takeru has been staring at him. _Ah, what a ferocious look from Toru’s little kitty,_ he thought, a small smile forming on his lips. He doesn’t look like he’s easily bribed. If Takeru would use him against his childhood friend, he should think of _something_ to offer this Takahiro—something _better and bigger and greater_ than what Yamashita Toru could offer.

But, what is it?

_Surely, he can’t be bought by money, right?_

Or he’s just clinging to Toru because he knows that he’s the most powerful of them all? Because he knows that his childhood friend would kill anyone who will lay their hands on him?

Huuuh, he spread his arms when the three finally stood across him, _isn’t he the one who’s using the yakuza, after all?_

“Good day, Takahiro-san,” he said, smiling even wider when the said man just scowled at him, “Let’s start the procedures, shall we?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Taka had never liked this Satoh Takeru, but he must admit that he’s now looking… _more acceptable_ when he’s wearing that white coat and softly muttering orders onto his assistants. They’re outside the room where Hiroki is being tested and scanned, as per the man’s instructions. His brother was scared, clinging onto his hand for dear life when he was laid down on the examination table. Taka was scared too—they’ve been into like this room before, countless of times, when Taka has still had some money to spare for expensive treatments but that was so long ago—and the results were always the same.

He wants Hiro to live a happy life in the future, but he needs a surgery for that. And doctors…they always told Taka that the success rate is very low, and that might actually shorten his brother’s life, or worse, he might die during the surgery itself. Taka doesn’t want to risk that. He’ll take Hiro as he is now, buy his expensive medicines but to lose him? Never.

But Yamashita Toru would pay everything for _him._

This Satoh Takeru would do the surgery and save Hiroki.

And he’s fine with that—thankful even. But it doesn’t make this…this creepy feeling blooming within him whenever he’s with Satoh-san. Those eyes always look at him, seriously, as if he’s a huge puzzle to decode. Sometimes, he would look like how Toru-san would, eyes dark and glinting with hunger he can only see while they’re alone and doing…stuffs—but even before Taka could call him out on that, that scary look would vanish and would be replaced by a small, generous smile.

_He’s a creepy motherfucker too,_ he thought, as he watched the bed sliding into that machine.

“It’s getting worse,” Taka’s head snapped towards the yakuza at those words. He’s not even looking at him, instead, his eyes are trained on the clipboard he’s holding. His ridiculously long auburn fringes were falling around his face, like curtain shielding that sly face, “He’s been taking his medicines right? But I think a few months from now, it won’t be enough anymore, Takahiro-san.”

“But,” Taka tried recalling a time—any instances—that Hiro complained about chest pains, but he couldn’t remember one. He’s been drinking his medicines, right? The highest class, because the bastard makes sure of that so why—how—, “H-he,” he started, “He’s not telling me anything about pains these past couple of months so maybe—,”

his eyes grew wide when the doctor suddenly leaned forward— _too close!_ —making Taka backed away in fear. Those eyes narrowed at him, yet they’re twinkling in something— _amusement? Delight?_ —as they roamed all over Taka’s confused face.

“Silly, silly, Takahiro-san,” he mumbled, so close, that even Tomoya perked up from his post a few feet away from them. Taka could see the yakuza watching them, hand shoved into his coat—and he knows that one wrong move could lead to injuries, could lead to blood spilling, could lead to death—, “Do you tell your brother every time Toru was _pounding_ into you, hmmm?”

Takahiro’s eyes narrowed into slits at that—his mouth parting open, only to close again because…because…

_What can I say against that?!_

“I…”

“Of course you didn’t,” the doctor, thank-fucking-gods, straightened up and shoved his hand into the pocket of his coat, “Because there are things that you can’t just say, even to your beloved brother, right? So, maybe it’s the same for him. I can tell that he’s been suffering in the past weeks, but he probably doesn’t want to worry you…”

Taka glanced across the clear glass panel. Hiroki is in pain? But…but…where was Taka to see it? To help him? To be by his side when his brother needed him the most? _Where was he?_

Somewhere in the elite part of Tokyo.

_Getting fucked by that red-head bastard._

His fingers curled into a fist as he shook those memories away. That’s different, mou! He’s trying to protect Hiro—Hiroki who’s so pure and innocent and gentle—

“B-but,” he licked his lip, his throat suddenly feeling dry, “But you can still save him, right? You…you could still save my brother?”

The auburn-haired gave him a long, speculative side glance. Taka fidgeted under the unwanted scrutiny. He looks so much like Toru-san—so mysterious and silent—yet so different at the same time. He’s always like that, studying Taka, as if he’s thinking of something _dire and serious and mischievous_ all at the same time. After what it seems like forever, Satoh-san finally turned to face him, grabbing his arm to pull him closer—

“Wha—,”

—his other hand supporting the small of his back as he pressed closer, lips split in a soft yet oh-so mad smile, “I can save him alright—,”

Taka started to heave, eyes seeking someone— _anyone_ —to help him out, to help him escape from the grip of this man. He can see Tomoya starting to pace towards them, his face was storm-dark, gun in his hand.

“—and I can also give you _freedom,_ dear Takahiro,” he mumbled under his breath. Taka shook his head in fear, in confusion, because what does he mean? Freedom? Freedom from what _? Freedom from whom—_ , “I can save you both, your brother living a bright future and you turning back to your normal life without Toru—,”

He gasped when he was suddenly yanked back—Tomoya was trying to move him away from the other yakuza, but Satoh-san wouldn’t budge. Taka, on the other hand, merely stared at the handsome face of the doctor—his mind whirling at those words which were spoken so soft yet still managed to shook his world—

_A life without Toru-san...?_

“Please let go of him, Satoh-san,” was Tomoya’s stern warning, but the oyabun didn’t even glanced at the seaweed-head—his cruel eyes staring straight into Taka’s panicking ones, “Satoh-san!”

“Think about it, Takahiro,” he said, “Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Nice?

_Nice?!_

Of course it would be nice— _great, even!_ Because a life without the redhead yakuza is a billion times better than this! He might be starving and working himself to death back then, playing his guitar in dark live houses and clubs, working in various part time jobs to support him and his brother’s daily living—but the freedom, the ability to live without a chain shackling around his neck, without the pains, without the memories burnt into his mind—

It’s—tempting—

The idea of struggling out of the bastard’s is so seductive, so _alluring_ but—

But—

_“But, how about you? Are you willing to pay the price?”_

At what price?

Strong nimble fingers grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look up at the man’s face—he can hear Tomoya cocking his gun towards the direction of the yakuza, as well as the dozen of footsteps surrounding them, the sounds of gun clicking were so loud in his ears—

“Meet me once, Takahiro,” he said, smiling sweetly down at him—as if they’re not being surrounded by sui-wearing people, their guns aimed at Tomoya, while the green-haired yakuza is pointing his towards the leader of the Satoh-gumi. “We’ll have a nice long chat, and I’ll tell you the details, okay?”

And just like that, he was shoved away—Tomoya catching his frail body as he stumbled away from the yakuza. Satoh-=san turned on his back, his long hair swishing with the motion as he sauntered inside the room—everyone has already hidden their guns, men dissipating around them, leaving Taka wide eyed and knees weak in the arms of Tomoya.

“H-he—,” Taka swallowed down, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Someone—for the first _time—is offering him, not just the health and safety of his brother—but a definite way out, too._

_He can get me out of this mess...?_

_He can…save my brother...?_

_And let us live far away from these people...?_

“He c-can— _mph_ —,” he wasn’t able to finish his babblings when Tomoya cupped his cheeks, glaring at him in full force.

“Don’t listen to him, Taka-chan,” he hissed, making Taka knitted his brows in confusion. What was he saying? Why can’t he listen to Satoh-san? He’s…He wants to save me…but Tomoya looks angry. Was he mad? Was he annoyed because Taka is seeking another person’s help to escape from the grips of his master? “Don’t listen to anything he says, because Aniki—,” Tomoya stared down at him—worried, confused, scared—, “Aniki won’t let someone off— _someone who betrays him_ —even if it’s you—so don’t—,”

Don’t believe Satoh-san.

Don’t listen to anything he says.

_Because that mad bastard would…_

Taka’s eyes fluttered closed as he was flooded with gruesome images of chains and whips and blood, screams piercing the silence—the scent of blood and tears and sex thick in the air—

Hiroki seating on a chair, hands and body tied, blood dripping from his mouth—his face black and bruised— _mumbling Taka’s name, calling out and crying while Taka watched in horror—_

His eyes snapped opened, taking in gulps of air— _not true, not real, just thoughts_ —realizing that Tomoya was still there, caging his sweaty cheeks with his hand.

“Do you understand, Taka-chan?” he said, softly this time, like he’s afraid that Taka would shatter with one wrong move, with one loud word. Taka felt his eyes stinging with unshed tears as fear—pure, unadulterated fear—wracked his entire system, “ _Do you_?”

“ _H-hai_ ,” he bit his lip, nodded, before shoving the man away to wiped the tears from his eyes. Hiroki must never saw this, must never know this—Taka must protect him but even as he tried to form a smile to greet his brother, even if he had told Tomoya that he understood the dire repercussions his actions might cause…

He can’t still shake the words offered by Satoh-san earlier.

Because after all, _who wants to be caged and chained like a pretty bird for the rest if their lives?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HTHMF's anniversary is coming up!! December too! Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	18. No Reason for me to Hold on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORCHESTRA TOUR IS COOOOOMIIIING
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing so please don't sue me.

_“Ahn…”_

Ragged, harsh puffs of air escaped Takahiro’s parted lips as he bonelessly stared at the blank white ceiling above him. He feels so tired and disgusted at himself yet he couldn’t even make a movement to flee, struggle or even sit up from the sheets where’s he’s splayed like a pretty butterfly. His dark curls were clinging onto his heated skin, creating a halo around his head on the once pristine white sheets.

It’s been another one of _those_ nights.

The bastard _apparently_ wants to know how the check-up had gone on, calling for him and after Taka had explained what Satoh-san had said about his brother—even though he knows that Tomoya already spilled everything to his oh-so precious Aniki—the bastard promptly ordered him to strip.

_And who was he to say no?_

It was filled with passion—leaving Taka breathless, crying and sobbing and begging for release while the man continued his devilish ministrations— _cruel, relentless, mercilessly_ —grinning and smirking at the panting and broken mess Taka had become in a matter of minutes. His mind was so muddled with pain and pleasure and the need— _god this pathetic, revolting need_ —to come that he didn’t even struggled, not even when the man ripped his clothes—because he’s a crazy fucker who loves _shredding_ Taka’s clothes—because he was undressing much slower than he wanted; not even when he was tossed like a ragdoll on the huge bed, his body bouncing off the soft mattress before he went down on him—making Taka scream and see stars under the lids of his eyes.

And now…

Instead of getting his clothes, or snatching one from the man’s wardrobe, dress up and dash the fuck away from this cursed unit, Takahiro remained lying on the soft bed, watching as the man fiddled on his phone.

_I’m totally fucked up…_

Toru-san was facing away from him, the bastard had magically pulled his boxers on, a cigarette dangling on his perfectly sculpted lips as he stared on his slick black phone. From his spot on the bed, Taka could clearly see the mighty dragon embellished on the man’s broad, pale back. It looks like it’s moving, the scales rippling with every breath the yakuza takes. The sakura fluttering on the water, where a crimson lotus was floating on. It was the first time Taka had seen them whole—he knows it; his nails had scratched them countless of times before—but to actually see them like this...?

_How…how many lovers had seen this view...?_

The pure, raw form of Yamashita Toru— _laid bare, unguarded and careless_ —in front of Taka’s eyes.

 _How many lovers has seen this side of him_ —beautiful, like the pale moon hanging on the dark skies—?

Even before he can realize what he’s doing, Taka had already reached forward, shaking hand landing on the man’s sweaty back. The yakuza momentarily tensed—like a predator getting ready to pounce—but aside from a curious look over his shoulder, Toru-san didn’t make any move to get away or to shrug off his hand. He just…glanced at6 Taka with amusement, before casually looking down on his phone again.

Taka swallowed, taking that gesture as a permission to continue what he’s doing.

Nimble fingertips drew slow, curling patterns across the skin of the yakuza’s lower back. It looks like a canvas—bare of clothing but not of colors. There’s a dark pool at the dip of his spine where a single, glowing lotus floats on the surface, and Taka couldn’t help himself from tracing each one of its red petals with lazy precision.

His fingers wandered up, travelling up the broad shoulders, following the shape of the eastern dragon carved on the otherwise porcelain skin. The scales and furs map a map for Taka’s fingers to follow as he wondered on how the man got all of his tattoos. Did he do it the modern way? Visiting a shop and deciding on the design, an eastern dragon of all? Or did he do it the old-fashioned yakuza way—skin getting inked as years passed by—like a _living canvas_ slowly, painfully being completed as time fades away?

Taka marveled at that thought, inching close, the pads of his fingers feeling every bump, every inconsistency where the skin bleeds into ink, his eyes growing wide as sinister thought sliced through his mind.

**_It will be easy to stab him right now._ **

The leader hissed when Taka suddenly scraped his blunt nails on the scales of the dragon. He didn’t mean it! He shook his head, eyes wide as the yakuza glanced over his shoulder, looking at him with dark, brooding eyes.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered, pulling his hand away. It feels like the room is swirling into a blur as he tried to push that nasty thought away. What the fuck? Did he actually just think of…of _stabbing_ that man on his back? Did he just thought of killing another person?!

What’s…what’s happening to him?!

Just because of the single fact that Yamashita Toru had allowed him to caress his back—show this vulnerable part of him…

_“—he doesn’t pamper whores, nor clean them up, and dress them like he’s an obedient butler. Our Leader doesn’t bow, doesn’t kneel, doesn’t speak so gently to anyone—,”_

There’s power. This heady sense of power over the yakuza that make his knees go weak. In fact, if he wasn’t lying on the bed, he’ll probably sink on the goddamned floor at the intensity of emotions surging within him.

“You could’ve just asked me if you want more, you know?” his eyes snapped towards the yakuza, watching as he reached over the side table to put his phone over it. He then turned towards Taka, abruptly grabbing his ankles—

“Oof—!”

—and yanking him towards the edge of the bed until his legs were dangling on the floor. Motherfucker—his eyes grew wider, almost popping out of their sockets when he felt the man spread his legs wide, to accommodate his tattooed frame kneeling on the spot between them—

“I thought we’re done for tonight _ngg_ —!”

He tried to push himself on his elbows, only to be greeted by that sinful image of the redhead going down onto his member. “ _Fuuuuuck,_ ” he hissed in surprise and delight as he felt his member encased in a warm, tight heat. He rarely does this to him, but fuck if Taka would say that he hated it. The feeling of a tongue swirling and lapping at his member was enough to make him insane—what more when he feels those teeth gently scraping on the length of his sensitive flesh.

He watched—vision hazy and clouded with unshed tears clinging on his lashes—as the man pulled away, letting go of his member with an audible “pop”, planting a soft kiss on the red tip—not even letting his gaze tear away from Taka’s glassy ones—, “I’ll never get done with you, Takahiro…” he murmured against the flesh, hot, moist breath fanning, making Taka’s leg muscles clench—the pleasure running down to the tip of his toes as his mind savored those words—

Never.

Get done.

_With you._

_Never…_

His skin feels like it was on fire, too sensitive to every flicker of that tongue, licking and nipping on the supple skin of his inner thighs. “T-too much—,” he whimpered when a mixture of pain and pleasure crashed onto him as the yakuza sucked too hard, bit too deep, only to soothe the tender bruise with his perfect lips or tongue or caress of fingertips. Taka tried to hide his groans but goddamn, who can last without turning into a pitiful whining mess when you have… _when you have a Yamashita Toru_ kneeling right before you, face so close to your leaking cock and lips parting to engulf that shaft again—

“Ahhhn—,”

Taka’s head lolled back, his elbows giving away, allowing his body to fall back on the soft bed as the yakuza made his merry way down on his member again. He feels so weak yet so thrilled at the same time, his hips bucking upwards—trying to fuck that _greedy mouth_ in desperation—but the bastard pinned his hips down on the mattress, preventing him from thrusting into that warm, warm heat.

Tear filled his eyes as he felt the tongue swirled, his mind had long forgotten the dangerous thoughts he’s having earlier—just a few minutes ago—as they were swept with mind-blowing pleasure. He drew away and sucked and swirled his tongue over the tip all at the same time, sending tingling, blinding pleasure to all of Takahiro’s nerves before devouring him in again. Again and again, putting Taka’s legs onto his strong, broad inked shoulders—smirking as Taka’s hips stuttered again, trying to seek more pleasure, deeper into that throat—

_More, more—_

Toru-san sucked, hollowing his cheeks, drinking and milking as Taka screamed, his body arching from the bed as he buried his fingers into he red tresses he loved and hated so much—

_Fuck, fuck, fuck—_

“M-more…more—,” he chanted, even if he’s already like a taut bow, ready to snap anytime with further ministrations. He had expected the man to just…fucked him over, like he usual do when his little kitten is actually begging for more, but no—to his surprise—the yakuza let go of his aching dick— _no, no, goddammit—_ to grab his arm, make him seat up straight.

He was so dazed with how fast the events are, that he immediately doubled over, burying his nose into the red strands of hair, as Toru-san grabbed his hips to steady him. He looked up at him with those dazed, heavily-lidded bedroom eyes, as if challenging him—

“Take what you want, Takahiro…” he growled out and for a moment Taka was confused, “You can do better than just lay impassive like what you’ve been doing all this time, right...?”

“I—,” Taka started, a fierce blush making its way on his cheeks as he glared at the man kneeling before him. Anger and desperation flared within him, “Y-you arrogant shit! I’m not being impassive—,”

There was an amused quirking of brow, Taka spluttering his next words in indignation.

“—I’ll make you eat your words!” his eyes darted on his very erect, very painful member, “Or—or _me,_ for that matter!”

A huge, sly grin formed on those thin lips and fuck if it doesn’t infuriated Taka to no ends. He must be a yakuza for all he cares, but damn, he really wanted to erase that grin on that annoyingly handsome face! with a huff, and searing desperation, Taka grabbed a fistful of the yakuza’s maroon tresses as if he’s gonna ram himself into that mouth.

But then he froze—because what the fuck, does he really want the man to choke on his cock that bad?! Will Toru-san even be willing to have his mouth fucked by Takahiro? By a lowly commoner he keeps as a pet?

His hesitance probably irked the yakuza, because even before Taka could find answers to his own questions, the leader wasted no time as he grabbed his hips and yanked him forward, sucking Takahiro in one swift motion.

“Ahhh!”

Taka’s gripped on the man’s hair tightened— _shit shit what if he gets angry shit_ —his hips starting to move on its own, trying to drive deeper. He couldn’t believe—god, people would kill to see this—this man letting someone else use his mouth like that—as he tried to prevent his eyes from just fluttering close as the sight, the very erotic, gratifying sight of the leader taking him—he wanted to see this—wanted to watch as his own rock-hard arousal glides in and out of Toru-san’s mouth.

Said Toru-san was looking up at him, his cheeks full, mouth parted to accommodate Taka’s girth—damn, he’s already on his knees and sucking someone else’ dick but he’s still looking _dominant_ as ever. He’s obviously drinking on the sight of pure lust and satisfaction high on Taka’s feverish face. he loves this, loves seeing every emotion swirled on Taka’s face, loves seeing how he can debauch and corrupt Takahiro with just his mouth.

_Power._

The power and desire over this man was so damn intoxicating that Taka couldn’t care less if he’ll hurt the man or broke his nose as he tried to thrust even more—more, more— _give me everything—_

_You took everything from me—_

_So, it’s just fair, right?_

Right?

But _freedom—_

He shook his head, trying to shake the image of Satoh-san leaning towards him out of his mind. He’s so damn tired, so damn exhausted to think of things, to think of the repercussions his actions could make—he just wants to rest, got the blowjob of his life, and sleep. There’s no _reason for him to hold onto_ his strugglings anymore because he had it all— _had already taken all of it—_

“M-more—,” he sobbed, making the yakuza growled around his cocked and sucked harder, making Taka’s eyes almost roll back for a short moment. Heavenly gods, he prayed that Hiro would never learn of the things he had done, of the things he’s doing, and the things he will do in the future with this man because he won’t be able to stand the _shame, the humiliation_ of actually enjoying those touches, the harsh, bruising grip on his hips, the mouth working wonders on his erection. “More…”

The yakuza complied, wanting Taka to break into lovely pieces, as he opened up his throat and pulled the leaking cock in deeper, massaging the engorged head with his throat muscles and swirling his tongue on the shaft, swallowing Takahiro down the back of his throat—

“No—ahnnn!!”

Taka’s pupils were blown wide, as he pressed hard into the yakuza’s mouth—thrusting and seeking release the way the leader would do to him. He braved himself to look down, his breath catching as he saw the intense, dark eyes gazing up at him.

_See what I do for you?_

_Only you, Takahiro._

And Taka was rendered done at that. Fucking done. He came with a shattered cry, forehead pressed against the top of the man’s skull as he cradled him close, his entire body shaking in pleasure and satisfaction. The yakuza swallowed him down, drinking and milking him until he finally goes limp, his hands falling down from fisting the red strands to the man’s tattooed shoulder. But Toru-san only drew his cock out until he was sure that Takahiro was spent, before shoving the seemingly boneless man backwards. Taka was too tired to care about the rough man-handling, the mattresses feels like a soft heaven beneath his back and now that he’s satisfied, head swimming and full of content thoughts, he wants nothing but to fall into unconsciousness.

“I can give you more.”

Taka’s hazy eyes fluttered open, finding it difficult to focus on the man who’s now hovering above him. What the fuck is with this position, don’t tell me he’s still going at it?!

“I can give you _everything_ ,” he roughly said, leaning down to brush his nose up the column of Takahiro’s neck, towards the flustered apple of his cheek, before planting a soft kiss against his forehead. Taka can feel the man moving his legs, spreading it to reclaim his spot between them, but his mind was no longer there—he’s already getting dizzy with the words clashing inside his head—like a hurricane brewing, threatening to tear him into bloody, maddened pieces.

_“I can give you everything.”_

_“I can save you both, your brother living a bright future and you turning back to your normal life without Toru—,”_

—, “Aniki won’t let someone off—someone who betrays him—even if it’s you—so don’t—,”

 

_“Think about it, Takahiro. Wouldn’t it be nice?”_

“Remember that,” the redhead said, growled as he surged forward, leaning and making Taka consumed as ever as he took claim, kissing Takahiro deep as thrust home for the nth time that night, “Everything you desire, Takahiro.”

_What if it’s freedom I desire, Toru-san?_

He grasped the man’s tattooed arms as he arched back, feeling suddenly full, the tears finally rolling down his tears as he was, once again, put back on his place.

_Would you still willingly give it to me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gaaaaaaaaaah what the hell was that ashsajshajsa
> 
>  
> 
> Please tell me what you think! Thanks for reading~!


	19. Can't Reach for Your Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lame as usual.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. OOR is not and will never be mine. This is just a product of imagination so please don't sue me.

Taka harshly washed his hands under the running water. He’s long done relieving himself, but he couldn’t make himself go out of that public comfort room— _which was a thousand times better than the usual public comfort room he’s been into in his entire life_ —because he knows that Tomoya would be there, standing by the exit, the perpetual smile plastered on his lip—waiting patiently like a dutiful knight and guard.

Taka would love to feel secured, to feel safe and relaxed by the presence of the seaweed-head yakuza but not today. Not _now_. Especially when he can still feel the small, crumpled piece of paper in the back pockets of his jeans.

Satoh-san was speaking to him earlier, telling him that they have to do the surgery in two weeks, while Hiroki is still on his best condition. He told Taka things, on how he should prepare his brother, and he really shouldn’t worry because, well, he’s a good—if not the best—surgeon. And damn it the small, smug grin on those thin lips reminded him so much of Toru-san’s—the feeling is the same too, he wants to punch that smile off those damn lips _. And speaking of lips, why do these two have perfectly sculpted ones, mou?!_

A-anyways.

Satoh-san was being professional and…doctor-like— _which is really weird,_ considering that the asshole could commit bloody murder despite being a surgeon, who’s supposed to save lives. He was thinking if he would really trust this man to cut up his brother when the doctor handed him a paper making Taka almost jumped off his seat. It doesn’t look suspicious at all, just a bunch of sheets containing Hiro’s medical assessments so he just grabbed it—coz that’s what normal people do when you’re being handed documents—only to have his hand gripped by the doctor under the papers.

_Wha—_

His eyes snapped, looking at the yakuza’s face in alarm, especially when he felt what feels like a small paper being pushed into his smaller hand. Satoh-san was saying something about medicines and school leave but Taka couldn’t bring his mind to concentrate anymore. He knows that he should bark for Tomoya, tell him that Satoh-san is giving him something— _which is probably illegal or would cause his definite death_ —but to his surprise, he just wordlessly accepted the small paper hidden under the larger sheets.

“Talk to me, okay, Takahiro-kun?” Satoh-san sweetly smiled down at him before pushing himself off the chair across Taka’s. with shaking hands, Taka took a closer look on the papers, but the words were blurred and his head is getting dizzy at the thought of talking to Satoh-san in private.

Tomoya’s warning ring loud in his mind but goddammit, the thought of freedom—the sudden desire to take a peek of what Satoh Takeru could offer him—made him crumpled the paper and subtly put it in the back pocket of his jeans before standing up and excusing himself to go to the toilet.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The day passed like a blur after that. Taka called him—his gut squeezing like they’re being thrown in a concrete mixer— _using Hiroki’s phone_ —because god knows that the Yamashita shits had probably his phone wiretapped or something. The doctor immediately answered, amusement evident in his voice as he instructed Takahiro on where to meet.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Taka hissed, gripping the phone too hard, “They’re everywhere. The bastard has his men guarding me every time!”

“You’re really funny, Takahiro-kun—wait, that’s too long—can I call you _Taka-pin_ instead?”

“No.”

“So as I was saying, you’re really funny Taka-pin,” _said Taka-pin_ wanted to retch his intestines out because the sound of that silly nickname comes out so fucking wrong—, “You really should be careful saying shits like that about Toru. No one really gets away—,”

“Well, I do—,”

The man hummed, “You’re right. You’re probably the only one who can do that and come out alive—and with hickeys and bruises instead of scars and burns, nee?”

_The actual fuck?!_

Taka moved the phone away from his ear and stared at it, as if he can convey his colossal annoyance towards the doctor. Why is everyone in the yakuza world like this? Annoying, suggestive piece of jerks! If he… If he wasn’t really just offering something so alluring to Taka, then the singer won’t hesitate to tell him to fuck off and ended the goddamned call right there and then but no—

He must endure this.

It’s his freedom that’s on the line, mou…

He put the phone back onto his ear.

“—really risky but not impossible,” the surgeon was saying, “I could arrange for our meeting but you see, we have to sacrifice a _little for that.”_

Taka’s brows furrowed in confusion. Sacrifice? How can he even escape the men guarding him and this apartment building? It’s...impossible. And the red-head yakuza would definitely know ever move he makes so Satoh-san is not really making any sense. _Maybe he’s high on drugs?_

“Sacrifice?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” he said in an off-handed manner, “Just bring your and your brother’s passport every time so you’ll be ready. I’ll prepare your tickets, your new bank accounts, a house for you, all of Hiroki’s educational needs and a good job for you in your new home—,”

Taka gasped at that, his mind swirling at the promises—sweet like honey, bright and seductive like a flame to a moth—a new home? A new environment? Taka working? Hiroki attending school—alive and healthy? That’s…that’s…

_“I can give you everything,”_

Taka jolted on his spot, like a bucket of ice-cold water has been doused over his entire frame as the rough, low voice of the redhead yakuza filled his mind. _Right, Toru-san._ He—

_“Everything you desire, Takahiro.”_

He…he’s already giving that—all of it—to Takahiro. Nice clothes and gifts, lavished foods and money—a lot of money in his account—he checked it, used some for Hiro’s medicine, only to realize that the man wasn’t joking. He’s serious about giving everything to Taka, even Hiroki’s health and bright future—tho the singer had to surrender everything of him and prays that the yakuza won’t get tired of him too son because he doesn’t want to die—easily like his previous lovers, die like a cheap whore, thrown away like an useless, _broken doll._

But it would be like hell—living the days in fear that _one day_ , everything would end—that _one day,_ he would be casted away, once _used_ , once _broken,_ once _battered._

And Satoh-san is offering him a different way out—

But is it really worth it?

_Throw Toru-san away?_

What if he knows about it? You will be punished _. Deeply. Painfully._

_Hiroki might even get dragged into the mess—are you sure you’re ready to take the risks for that…that—_

Takahiro squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to calm his breathing. Tomoya’s warning rang loud in his ears, Toru-san’s gruff voice surrounding him, like he’s here, always been here—

I don’t wanna be caged like that forever.

“A-at...” he started, “At what price?”

Taka held his breath. He was ready to hear something like one-night stand or about being used like a prostitute again because that’s what he can do, right? And Satoh-san probably knows how it would piss the redhead yakuza to know that his…his property is being tainted by another hands so he wasn’t ready, not really at all—and he regrets asking that question right away, because he had forgotten that despite their calm, smiling faces, these yakuzas are just like beasts— _carnivorous, vicious, greedy_ —under a human skin—

“Kill him,” Satoh-san said in a very serious voice, “Kill Yamashita Toru.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Are you…Are you sure about this, Niichan?”

Takahiro looked up from the clothes he’s folding when his brother padded towards the living room. The night was young and for the first time, Taka wasn’t summoned by the yakuza leader. He was busy, Tomoya said earlier, as if Taka really gives a fuck on the whereabouts of the man, there’s something going on in the underground world so…

So Taka was left to pack Hiroki’s things up. It’s not like he actually had a job these days. It was just an excuse, whenever he’s at the man’s unit. An excuse, a beautiful lie he’s feeding to his baby brother to cover up the ugly truth of his nightly activities.

He looked up, smiled as the younger boy plopped in front of him.

“Sure about what?” he asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping right now, Hiro?”

“I am but,” he watched as his brother fiddled with the hem of his own clothes. Taka eyed the worn fabric, making a mental note to buy more clothes for Hiro. He’s already a grown up man, and girls would be flocking at him if he dressed a bit better. He wonders if he could use Toru-san’s yakuza for that, tho?

He froze. Not really knowing why he’s thinking of heavily relying to the money the man is feeding to him.

_What the fuck was that?!_

“I’m kinda nervous,” he said, making Taka frown, “I mean, are you sure we have to do this? I’m still feeling fine—I’m scared that if we...if we pushed through it, I might—I might—,”

Taka’s heart feels like it’s lodged into his throat when he saw the tears springing on the rims of Hiroki’s eyes. He looked so young yet so tired, so scared and nervous and oh-so needing for reassurance.

“—I might _never_ see you again, Nii-chan…”

“What,” Taka tried laughing, but his voice sounds so hollow and pained even in his own ears, “What are you saying, Hiro? You’ve…you’ve heard the doctor,” he said, unconsciously bunching the clothes into his fisted hands, “Months from now, it’ll be riskier to have a surgery for you. It’s now or never. Don’t you…don’t you want to get better, for Aniki?”

“I want to! I want to get better and help you and stop you from buying expensive medicines,” he said, tears rolling down his still somewhat chubby-cheeks, “I want to get well so that I can help you support this family...so that you can have more money for yourself…you can buy more clothes and not wear those…those ugly shirts—,”

“Hey! My clothes are not ugly!”

“—and so that you’ll have more time for yourself, instead of working all night long…maybe you could even have a _girlfriend_ or something, too! I want too, god knows that but I’m…I’m scared, Niichan. I’m really—,”

Taka felt his vision get blurry as his brother say all of those stuffs. Ah, it would be so nice if those things would happen. But girlfriend, really? Toru-san would definitely kill someone if that happens. The bastard is so possessive so that won’t be a reality, well, not until Takahiro is under his grasp.

“I know, I know,” he said and reached forward, Hiroki getting the message and sliding closer towards him, until his resting his cheeks onto Taka’s clothed shoulder. He was sobbing now, fists clutching at Taka’s clothes as the older brother run his fingers through the locks of hair.

“I’m scared too, you know?” he said with a shaky voice, “and I think that’s normal. But I’m more scared that your illness would continue burdening you for longer…if we could end it sooner, why not do it now? don’t think too much okay?” he leaned back and caged the tear-streaked cheeks of his baby brother, “Satoh-san is a great surgeon, he’ll definitely save you. And when you open your eyes after a few days, I’ll be there okay? Don’t worry about school, don’t worry about the money, don’t worry about…about me,” he hiccupped, images of blood blinding him flooded into his mind, “I’ll be alright, you’ll be alright, we’ll be… _we’ll be alright_ , ne? so…so don’t worry too much mou! We don’t want you to get an attack before it!”

Hiroki smiled, cracked a soft laughter before breaking down into tears again, Taka hugged him, crying that his brother won’t smell the stench, won’t see how dirtied and stained he has become—all for him, all for Hiroki—as he embraced him, shushed him and rocked him into sleep, as he hums a soft lullaby to ease both of their minds.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Takahiro jumped, startled, when the door to the man’s unit suddenly clanged open, the leaf hitting the all so loud even Tomoya had jumped onto his feet, gun wielded out into the air—only to realize that it was just the leader who’s storming into the unit.

Taka’s mouth parted, wanting to reprimand the man for scaring them like that but then he noticed that the man’s clothes were soaked, dripping a familiar red liquid onto the once pristine wooden floors. B-blood?! He instantly recoiled, pressing himself farther into the soft cushions of the sofa, praying that the man won’t see him or something—

_W-who’s blood is that?! Was he hurt?! Or did he—did he—_

“Is that your blood, Aniki?!” Tomoya hopped towards the leader who’s now taking the dark suit off. His white undershirt was worse, red exploding into every white fabric, making the magenta hair even brighter in Taka’s eyes. But the man doesn’t look like he’s in pain, in fact, he looks like he’s annoyed, for getting his clothe ruined.

“As if,” Toru-san snorted as he handed the dark suit onto his right-hand man, “Those fuckers did a number on my men and even ruined my clothes! This is my second one!”

_Who the fuck cares about that?!_

_Maa,_ kidding aside—so it’s true that it’s getting tough in the underground world these days? The leader has been away more frequently and has to deal with stuffs personally—which is rare, according to Tomoya because, Aniki would go to a meeting only if he wants to kill someone personally or something.

_Or something my ass._

He huffed but froze when those heavily-lidded eyes landed on his form, raking and suddenly hungry before a grin broke on the man’s soft-looking lips.

“Well, if it wasn’t Takahiro,” he said, sauntering towards him but halted his steps when he noticed that Taka flinched and is eyeing his clothes in disdain. He looked down, tilted his head before muttering courses and turning on his heel towards the Master Bedroom. “I’ll be back.”

He was gone in a few seconds, making Taka blinked and exchanged confused look.

“Well, that was weird,” Tomoya shrugged and put his gun back into his suit. Taka scoffed, barely stopping himself from saying out loud that the bastard has always bene weird right from the start. Instead, he pushed himself off the couch and silently followed the man into the now familiar room. he grabbed a rag and wiped the blood off the floor, following the trail until it went inside the huge bathroom. It’s not like he cares about the bastard’s home but he couldn’t stand the stench of blood. And it might ruin the floor too, so—

“You’re early today,” the man said, making Taka to slowly—oh-so slowly looked up at the man standing before him. The steam was getting out of the ajar door, making Taka a bit hazy and then—

“Gaaah!!!” he screeched, falling flat on his ass when he noticed that he’s mere inches in front of the man’s crotch. Well, he has a towel wrapped around his waist, and another one on his shoulder as he stared at Taka with amusement glinting on his eyes. The tattoos are more prominent against the pale white skin and Taka’s eyes didn’t roamed onto every piece of ink displayed on either arms. He really didn’t.

“Your reactions are funny,” Toru-san said as he leaned on the door jamb, “You’ve already seen all of it—so you don’t really have to scream like a damned virgin. You even put it in your mouth remem- ‘,”

“Oh my god, can you not say that aloud!” he snapped, his face heating up in an alarming rate as he inched backwards, “I don’t wanna hear that— _or anything, really_ —from your filthy mouth!”

He didn’t like the smirk on the man’s lips.

“Filthy mouth?” he drawled, his voice low yet piercing to Taka’s ears, “You weren’t complaining when this filthy mouth was kissing you—,”

Taka’s eyes bulged so much they almost popped out of their sockets.

“—ravishing and _sucking you off_ , remember?”

He wanted to buried his burning face onto his hands. Heck, he wanted that floor to just open up and swallow him whole in complete humiliation. Why is the man keen on saying those things out loud?! The sadistic asshole probably —no, definitely— enjoyed seeing Taka so hot and bothered and flustered.

“Y-you’re...a pervert…” he mumbled as he stood up and went pass the yakuza into the bathroom, he threw the rag into the trash bin and was starting to wash his hands when the man suddenly snaked his strong arms around his waist. Taka stiffened, but made no move to shrug the arms off—instead, he just continued on washing the dust and blood away from his hand, totally ignoring how a warm, calloused hand is now playing with the hem of his shirt. Goosebumps erupted on his skin when Toru-san leaned down, touching this neck and jawline with the tip of his nose—his eyes never leaving Taka’s face onto their reflection on the mirror across them.

“I am,” he rasped, Taka flinching as the hand roamed inside his chest, running delicate fingertips onto his smooth stomach—touching, feeling and tracing invisible patterns on the creamy skin. Taka gasped at the contact, his shaking fingers turning the faucet off as he straightened and stared at the man on the mirror.

_“Kill Yamashita Toru.”_

_Satoh-san is really insane_ , he thought, as Toru-san started to nip on his jawline, sucking and biting his way down the column of his throat. Taka’s head automatically turned sideways, unconsciously giving more access to that oh-so sinful mouth that can make his legs turn into fucking jellies in a matter of seconds.

_He’ll kill you first before you do it._

He was so lost in his own mind—the pleasure tingling on his nerves as the man made love on his skin, creating more bruises and replacing the fading ones with a fresher set—that he didn’t easily noticed when Toru-san leaned back, withdrawing his hands from Taka’s body as he stepped away from the dazed singer.

“Wha—,” Taka hastily turned around to see the man dried his hair, a few feet away from him, confusion and this…odd sense of abandonment lingering into his mind, “W-we’re not doing it...?”

The leader paused drying his hair before staring at Taka with dark, intense eyes, “I’m tired and not really in the mood. There’s a lot of abduction happening now and I was too busy annihilating the subgroups—,” the man paused, probably realizing that Taka doesn’t really want to have a peek of what’s their world actually is, “so yeah, not really in the mood tonight.”

He silently went out, leaving a shell-shocked Taka leaning on the edge of the counter. What…what was that?!

_Did he…_

Does the perverted, the _ever-perverted_ Yamashita Toru who always, always find ways to fuck Taka anywhere, anytime is actually passing this chance to take him?! B-but why!?

_Is he…_ Taka’s shoulder shook uncontrollably _, is he getting tired of me...?_

Wide eyes started on the pristine tiled floor. Shock, betrayal, fear—bone0crushing fear settled in the pit of his stomach as he raked his brains for the possible causes of the man’s reluctance on touching him. Does he—does he know about Satoh-san’s plans? Does he suspect anything? Or...or maybe he had found someone else, _someone_ who would easily give into his whims and commands, _someone_ who won’t give him a shit-ton of headache for being a stubborn brat?

No, no, that can’t be—

Because—Taka wobbled out of the bathroom and found his way out to the bedroom. He found the yakuza sitting on the edge of the huge bed, a cigarette sitting on his lips as he dried his hair.

—because if Toru-san is getting tired of him, then…then what would happen to Hiroki? _He can’t leave me now! he can’t drop me now! Not now!_ Hiroki was supposed to get better so the thought of Toru-san dropping him is—is—

“What is it?”

Takahiro looked up, just realizing that he had already sank down on his knees, between the man’s parted legs. His nails were probably digging on the yakuza’s towel-cladded thighs as he looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. He parted his mouth, trying to say something—but no words came out—he was too frightened, too nervous and too _ashamed_ for his actions.

“I—I—,” he gulped audibly. “W-why won’t you want…? I mean…Y-you…you don’t want me _anymore..._?”

…

…

Rough, calloused hand landed on Taka’s cheek, the pad of the yakuza’s thumb stroking the apple of his cheek. He instantly nuzzled the warm hand, making the man smirked even wider. He blew out smoke, casting his cigarette onto the ashtray before leaning down.

“What’s this?” he said, “Is my kitten begging for attention now?”

Taka then swung his fist and punched the man right on his face for calling him with that ugly pet name again. _In his dreams, tho._

“N-no, just…just…” he gulped down, “…just curious...? I mean, you’re usually…dying to…uh…have your perverted, evil ways to me so why…? Why not tonight? I can—I can—,”

He watched as a very maniacal grin made its way on the man’s lips. He looked like a predator—a satisfied, smug one—as he leaned even closer, forcing Taka to look up at him.

“This is very unusual, even for you, Takahiro,” he drawled, gently pushing back the stubborn locks of hair behind his red-tipped ears, “Did you do something wrong? Or do you want something? That’s why you’re so eager to please your Master, hmmm...?”

_Master?! What the fuck_?!

Horror flashed onto Taka’s orbs, because for a moment, he thought that the man actually knows about Satoh-san’s offer, but after a few seconds of staying over there, hunched over Taka’s form, the man didn’t do anything. He was just…there…smiling like the asshole he is, probably feeling so nice that Taka is now willingly going down on his knees in fear...in fear of being abandoned like an used whore.

He can’t…

_I—I won’t—_

Taka steeled his resolve. He was so deep into this shit, and all he can do is to give in, keep on gripping onto the man’s mercy and affection—use him the way he’s using Takahiro—engulf him the way he had devoured his innocence—merciless, ruthless—before dropping him, ditching him in favor of a brighter future—

_“You’re the only one who can do it, the only person he had let into that thick armor of his…”_

He shook his head and stared up at the man with wide, glazed and pleading eyes, “I just…just want to make you feel better,” he mumbled under his breath, hating and cursing himself with every word leaving his mouth, “T-Tomoya said that you’re…always in a bad mood so...so maybe I can…can help you…?”

The redhead stared at him quizzically for a while—those dark, seemingly bored eyes gazing right through his very soul. Takahiro wanted nothing but to shy away, put his hands all over his face to hide from those intense gazes but he couldn’t—he wouldn’t—because—

_“Only you, Taka-pin, no one has ever seen him twice, no one has ever had the chance to be with him as many times as you had, and all the exceptions he made for you…”_

“I already told you I’m not in the mood, kitten.”

Taka let out a distress sound at that, close to whimper of desperation as he leaned further, his nose almost touching the man’s sharp jawline, “But I—,”

_Why won’t he take my offer?!_

_What kind of excuse is that?! Not in the mood?! Did he listened to me when I’m screaming and crying for him to stop?!_

Taka wasn’t able to answer his own questions when the man fisted his dark curls, yanking his head backwards, “Ahn—!”

“As much as I love seeing you beg for attention like a typical kitty,” the man said, eyes glinting into something that made Takahiro involuntarily shivered, his toes curling in pain, blunt nails digging painfully on the yakuza’s thigh—, “You’re acting really suspicious right now, Takahiro. Where did my defiant, feisty kitten has gone to, hmmm?”

Then his eyes went mellow for a moment, cold dark orbs held gentleness for a moment as he sighed, while Taka shook in terror. He knows, goddammit, he knows! Taka instantly flinched when the man grabbed his shoulder, hoisted him off the floor and flung him not the mattress, his body bouncing off the bed with an audible off.

“Wha—,” he tried to complain but it was easily forgotten when the man lied down beside him, spooning Takahiro—making him lay his head onto strong, inked shoulders, while his other hand latched on his waist in a possessive hold.

“Let’s just sleep for now,” he grinned, “And I’ll fuck you so hard later you won’t be able to walk for days, nee?”

He cringed at that, as the man throw the blankets over their bodies.

Taka desperately tried to calm himself down because this is _new_ —he’s not used being cuddled like this without getting roughly fucked, without the shooting pain on his lower back, without the tears streaming down on his cheeks and the painful rawness of his throat. He’s not used to this…this _warmth_ of the body practically enveloping him, not used at the gentle nuzzling into his messy locks, not used in just…lying there and…doing _nothing._

_He must be so tired to let a moment of consensual fucking go_ , he gravely thought. His hand hesitantly rose—not really knowing what to do, as he turned sideways for a bit, having the close-up view of the man’s sleepy face. Eyes barely open, and lips curled in a lazy smirk as the waterfall of bright magenta hair cascaded down his face. He looks so…so…

_“I bet he’s shown his vulnerable, human side to you…”_

Taka gulped, his hand finally resting on the man’s chest, directly above the snarling mouth of the dragon—his fingertips unconsciously tracing the intricate patterns of inks, basking at this strange feeling when the man smirked—not lewdly, not with a promise of brutal, merciless romp on the sheets—at him. He looks so normal— _well aside from his hair and annoyingly handsome features_ —like an ordinary man, and not the man at the very top of the underworld’s hierarchy.

_“If there’s someone who could do that, who could end the tyranny, who could hand you the freedom you oh so-desire, it is you, Takahiro-kun…”_

Taka’s eyes widened in a slightly, _oh-so slightly_ crazed manner, as his dark orbs slowly roamed over the man’s face, down to his sharp jaws, then to his neck. Taka tilted his head, wondering if he could…wrap both of his hands around that and strangle the man while he’s asleep.

_“If there’s someone who could kill the mighty Yamashita Toru…”_

Taka blinked, gasping at the thoughts permeating his mind, before he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his shaking frame closer towards the yakuza.

_“…it’s only you—only you, Takahiro-san…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, how was it?? Can you see the death flags here?? Please tell me what you think, thanks for reading~!


	20. Can you hear me when I cry in desperation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating coz I'm rushing stuffs, I hope there would be more actions in the future tho...and actual plot hohohoho. Also there would be more updates probably by uh next week or when I actually finished this shit. You'll know it when I'm uploading almost every other day~
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is just a product of imagination so please don't sue me.

Taka sighed as he silently trudged the empty streets towards their apartment building. The breeze is getting colder, as the leaves fall from the dried branches. Autumn was here, and he can already feel the winter, making him on the edge already.

_Hiroki always get in trouble when it's cold_ , he put his hands into the pocket of his sweater as he looked up at the starless sky. His brother would always have a difficulty in breathing during the height of the winter season—the thin, dry air and the bone-deep cold would always make him shiver and pant for his breath, with Taka supporting the smaller frame as cough wracked his body relentlessly. He had always felt so _useless,_ every year, watching as his brother gets blue, eyes squeezing shut and his body turning rigid and cold for a moment. Every day, the _kami’s_ know how Taka would pray hard and long, for the winter to be over— _for the sun to be at its peak spot on the sky,_ for the wind to cease sending chilling breeze the entire day. But the gods hated Taka, that, _he's so sure of_ —as days went by with him watching as his brother's eyes glazed with unshed tears, Hiroki's cold little fingers curling tightly against the fabric of his clothes—calling out his name, _"Niichan...Niichan...it hurts..."_ _—_ wheezing before falling into unconsciousness.

_Heh, those gods totally hated me,_ he thought, kicking a random pebble on the road, _it's not like I need them anymore...I've got...I've got..._

Taka has _that man_ now. _Someone_ who could grant his wishes, _someone_ who could save his brother—someone _who could do all the things_ those gods refused to give to him.

_And just for a hefty price,_ too, Taka's eyes blurred at that thought. He had long accepted it, that he was owned—down to every roots of his hair now belongs to that bastard. He was tainted, every inch of his body— _inside and out_ —was corrupted. So what’s bit more of humiliation, of sacrifice, if it's for the wellbeing and better future of his most beloved brother?

Even if he's _whoring_ —he shivered when a particularly cold breeze swept past him, or maybe it's just because of that word the yakuza _loathed_ —himself out, at least he's getting something out of it. Unlike when he was praying in those shrines, giving out coins after coins and lighting thousands of incenses...

_He can save Hiroki, so nothing else would matter_ _—_

"Don't move—!"

The silence in that street was broken when somebody spoke behind Taka. Months of dealing with the yakuza suddenly appearing out of nowhere made him stand rigid—straight as a pole as he breathed through his nose—

_What the fuck?!_

_Tomoya?!_

He took a brief glanced over his shoulder, watching as some suited guys fall on the concrete road—they're he guards following me around—before his gaze focused on the man pointing a silenced gun on his temple. Realization sinks in— _cold and hard_ —at the pot of his stomach as he gulped in nervousness.

_This is not...they are not from that man_ _—_

"Don't fight back and you won't be harmed," the man said, pushing the tip of his gun onto Taka's temple—the feeling of the cold, metal pressing against his now pale skin makes Taka shudder in fear. What the heck—is this—is this some kind of kidnapping?!

Somewhere at the far back of his mind, he could recall Tomoya saying something about his Aniki getting busy because a lot of abductions is happening...or maybe it was the bastard himself who had said those, but _what the fuck ever, I'm really getting kidnapped?! Again?!_

"I—," he started, raising both of his arms in defeat, "I don't have anything, really, "I don't even have a job—,"

"Doesn't matter, kiddo," the man growled out as he grabbed Taka's clothes and dragged him backwards, "our _boss_ wants you either way."

_Holy fuck,_ Taka thought as his legs scrambled to follow the motions, lest the man would actually drag him by his sweater, they are yakuza after all! And probably not related to that asshole!

Why is he getting dragged in the middle of the yakuza wars?! Surely, this people just want to torture him or something to betray Toru-san but what would he say?? It's not like the yakuza actually tells him some useful stuff that can lead to his fall! _And besides, tomorrow is Hiroki's surgery, goddammit, I can't be_ _—_

"If..." he nervously licked his lips, "If you would just let me go...you could save yourself from—,"

"Shut up!" the man was about to hit his face with the edge of his gun but stopped midway, probably realizing that damaging his...face won't do him any favor—no matter who the _fucktard_ is. "Shut the fuck up or I'll really hit you."

Taka gulped. Do these men even know who he is? If Toru-san would know about this, the idiot would surely rip these men apart. Torture them for days _—because death would be so much easier for them,_ he could imagine the redhead saying with a smirk—until they beg the leader to just finish them off. And Taka doesn't like that, doesn't like to see people dying because of him, so maybe he should warn them about—about the fact that Taka is affiliated— _and very much held in a precious manner_ —with the leader of the Yamashita-clan.

"You really should let me go or else—,"

Almond-shaped eyes widened when the tip of the gun was poised right at the middle of his forehead. His pupils dilated at the cross proximity of a very dangerous, very lethal weapon as his chest heaved in dry, pure, unadulterated fear. The urge to scream and call out that man's name was so strong, and the feel of the cold metal was the only thing that's preventing him from doing so.

_He could kill me even before the bastard could come_ — _if he would even come_ — _what if,_ Taka tried to choke down the scared sobs threatening to escape his lips, what if this is just an elaborate plot to eliminate him? What if these people were hired by the asshole to abduct him, kill him and throw his lifeless body in Tokyo Bay, later at night?

_Holy shit, what a nice thought to get yourself more scared, you wimpy shit._

Taka tried to steel his resolve. The bastard has his...connections and people guarding Taka everywhere so he would definitely know about this. He just hopes that the redhead leader would hurry the fuck up, or Taka would fall into his self-pitiful self again, thinking that Toru-san had finally gotten tired of him.

His eyes widened with renewed fear as he saw a black, heavi9 tinted car waiting for them in the darker corner.

_Fuuuuuuck_ _—why am I getting some dejavu feels here_ _—umph!_

He groaned, when the man unceremoniously dumped him inside the back seat—like a broken rag doll—, "hey! You'd better be careful—!" he wasn't able to finish his rant when the door was slammed shut, leaving him in the silence of the back seat. He groaned, trying to straighten up on the seat—the space thankfully empty of...lecherous, groping motherfuckers—and stared as the familiar streets passed by in a blur. He tried opening the door, but as expected, it was locked. He wished that he has his ever-reliable guitar right now so he could… _you know,_ smash it across the window and escape because he doesn’t really want to be some source of blood bath alter, but no, he had left the instrument in their unit. Taka groaned, kicking the door before falling back on the leather seat, his eyes widening in fear and horror, imagining how the redhead bastard would react upon his abduction.

_Fucking hell,_ he groaned, _I am totally fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you're always getting fucked, Takahiro, so what's new about that, hmmmm?
> 
>  
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts~! Thanks for reading!


	21. We shut 'em all down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one again~!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. OOR is not and will never be mine. Please don't sue me.

Toru looked up from the papers lying across him. They were at the conference room, situated at one of the highest towers in Tokyo, as he listened to the reports of the various heads of their business—both legal and from the underground market. Today has been hectic— _hell, these past few weeks are_ —with all the attempts to assassinate him and the other leaders of the yakuza families and the only thing that could actually take his mind off the bloods and torn limbs was the _feeling_ of Takahiro beneath him.

_Young, wild, and pretty_ Takahiro who would whimper in need, yet determined in denying his feelings for him, was the _only solace_ he has in this chaotic world. Oh, how Toru longed to go back to his unit—the once dark and somber apartment is now being brightened up by Takahiro’s presence alone—and feel the boy’s skin underneath the pads of his fingers, kissing and nipping the creamy skin and basking at the cute, hurt-kitty sounds he make whenever they’re going at it.

_He has been good these past few days,_ and Toru could only attribute it to the fact that the singer needs him to save his brother. If he’s actually in love with the boy, Toru would definitely feel something…a pang within his chest telling that it’s not enough, that Takahiro should _need him_ because _he loves him,_ not because he wants to use him—Yamashita Toru—use all his influences and connections, and of course, money, to prolong his brother’s life. But he was not—Toru never falls in love—not now, not ever—so whatever the brat’s reason for coming onto him like a domesticated cat begging for attention, he would welcome him with wide, open arms.

_Hmmm, but really,_ Toru’s bored gaze meet the eyes of the man presenting his reports about stocks—instantly cowering and hurrying his words in fear of getting fired right on the spot, _the kid needs a reward for being a cute, little kitty these days…maybe I should set up a date with him…?_

Images of a blushing Takahiro flooding his mind, the man wearing a suit—looking utterly uncomfortable—before he would cuss Toru to hell and back for forcing him to wear something like that and for bringing him ins such an upscale restaurant.

_But he doesn’t want to be pampered in that way,_ he thought in amusement. Toru couldn’t give Takahiro something that money could buy—he’s not that type of person who would spend money on lavished items, not someone who would enjoy luxuries—he’s a simple-minded, kind-hearted guy who would probably slap Toru with his money instead of being grateful for it.

_But that makes this more interesting, isn’t it—_

His eyes sharpened when he saw Ryota fishing out his phone from the pocket of his slacks. There’s a no-phone policy in this company, especially whenever the leader is present—well except for life and death situations. He watched—ignoring the man reporting in the front—with interest and growing feeling of uneasiness as his friend’s face turned pale in a matter of seconds.

_There’s something wrong—_

Ryota’s eyes flickered towards him, and at that short moment that their gazes met, Toru already knows—

_Something happened to Takahiro—_

—that there would be blood to pay, lives to be taken for trying to harm what was his— _really, if this isn’t love, then what it is? —_

He clenched his jaws and waited as his childhood friend ended the call before he strode towards him. He bent, whispering the words he has been dying to hear—

“Mori-chan has been kidnapped, Aniki—,”

_Thud!_

Everyone jumped on their seat when Toru’s palm hit the perfectly polished table, the papers over it flying off the floor. They warily glanced at the leader—the ever-stoic reader whose face has always been unreadable, devoid of any emotions—but is now filled with rage, painted with this lust to seek revenge and take back what was his—

“This meeting’s dismissed,” he orders before he pushed himself off his chair, wearing the coat that was hanging at the back of his chair and strode towards the double door, with every one of his men trailing behind him.

_There would be hell to pay for this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh-meh-meh so now we all knows who kidnapped Taka, neee?
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	22. I'm never what you really needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder why I'm updating with short chapters instead of just publishing the entire stuff gaaaaah
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing so please, please don't sue me for making the characters act like this.

“What’s wrong?”

Taka blinked, looking at the supposedly boss who wanted him abducted. The man had brought him somewhere—before he was blindfolded, stripped out of his clothing— “ _he might have something that they could use to track us,” “he’s that man’s slut, so don’t damage him or else,”—_ and gave him some…random yukata to wear. He was horrified—but at least the men didn’t touch him in a nasty way—they were actually careful, as if they know that there would _be death to pay_ for damaging Takahiro or something. After a while of waiting, he was brought to another room—this time, it was plush, fully-furnished—with a bed and a receiving area where the _Boss_ was sitting.

The auburn-haired doctored crossed his legs and gestured for Taka to come closer, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Taka-pin—,”

“Don’t call me that!” he snapped, making the man chuckle, ignoring how the suit-wearing guards gripped their guns and look completely ready to bore holes into Taka’s body using their goddamned bullets. “What the hell is your problem dragging me out like this!” he started—there was something akin to _relief_ flooding through his vein at the sight of a familiar face— _because it’s Satoh-san and not someone else, maybe he’ll spare me?_ —but there’s also this…this dread settling at the pit of his stomach as realization started to sink in—

_He’s Toru-san’s friend and yet—_

The bastard had made it clear that no one should touch him, no would should dare to touch _what was his_ and yet—

“You know that Toru-san won’t let this off, Satoh-san,” he said, the horror dawning on his eyes, “You know how batshit insane he’ll go and he might drag my brother into this—you know that—and yet—and yet—!”

While Taka was literally blowing off the steam, Satoh-san was just staring at him with an indulgent look on his face. He doesn’t look baffled at all _, really_ , and in fact, he’s actually looking like he’s getting some sort of amusement at Taka’s huffing and puffing. And it irks him, because it’s almost the same way how Toru-san would gaze at him as he denies— _for countless times already_ —the pleasure brought by the yakuza leader every damn time.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, Taka-pin,” the man said, making Taka growl in frustration, “Toru won’t be able to track you—for hours—so don’t worry about that thing—,”

“How can I not—,”

“You’re actually here, you know, to prepare for your departure, Takahiro,” the man said, effectively halting Taka’s fuming, “We’ve talked about this before, right? We’ll do the surgeries for your brother tomorrow—,”

Taka gasped at that. Hiroki would be on the operating table tomorrow and where the fuck is he? Somewhere in the middle of _god-knows-where_ , playing like a goddamned hostage to Satoh Takeru.

“—and after that, you’ll be both going out of the country to start a new life,” he pressed, before a sly smirk formed on his lips, making Taka gawked at him, “don’t you want that, Takahiro? You and Hiroki, living without the clutches of the man?”

 _Of course,_ Taka wanted to say, _of course, he wants that but—_

“I’ve got your passports and other documents,” Satoh-san said, pointing towards the pile of papers on the coffee table across his seat. From where Taka stood, he could faintly see his face on the documents-how the yakuza got hold of those, _he would never know_ —and he’s not really interested in knowing how the black market works anyway—making his throat suddenly feel dry. Suddenly, it feels so _real_ —the freedom he oh-so wanted was suddenly just before his eyes, just _within his reach_ —it feels so fucking real he could almost taste it—

_But, at what cost?_

“But you see, these doesn’t come free, Takahiro…” was the man’s remorseful words. Taka’s eyes snapped towards the yakuza, his eyes raking in the smug false-sorry look on the surgeon’s face, “You remember our deal?”

Taka swallowed—hard— _of course_ , how could he forget that? How could he forget the fact that this man asked for Toru-san’s life—had asked Taka to kill the most powerful man he had ever meet in his life? He grimly nodded, flinching at the wide smile on the man’s lips.

“Well, what do you say?” he asked, “You should hurry up before Toru could sniff that there’s something going on, that his pretty little kitten is actually planning to slash his throat or something—,”

“I—!” Taka gasped at that, the images of the redhead yakuza leaning on the headboard, his neck almost severed off his head and blood oozing out from the broken flesh. Taka could faintly see the bones and muscles, before he noticed the glassy, unseeing eyes, as if they’re looking at him—blaming him—, “I—can’t!” he shook his head, trying to clear his mind of that horrendous image.

He can’t do it—his eyes shook as he fisted the fabric of the flowy yukata he’s currently wearing—he can’t do it—

To kill someone just for his freedom?

He can’t— _not that man_ —not anyone else—

 _But they’re yakuza_ , his mind said, enunciating the word he hated so much with burning passion _, they’re supposed to die, supposed to be punished for all the sins they’ve committed against you—_

 _But what’s next?!_ He tried to reason out, _do you want me to punish one yakuza by killing him, by doing a huge favor for another one—_

_They’re beasts—all of them—and if you won’t act, you’ll be devoured, whole—_

_I don’t care!_ Taka sharply inhaled at that sudden thought. Where does that decision even came from?! Was he that of a…of a _masochist_ to actually think like that? Ha…ha-ha…he wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. _I just want Hiroki to be safe…to have a bright future…I don’t…I don’t really care on who rules them all, but to actually kill someone…?_

Taka might’ve been dirtied right through his very soul but that’s one thing that he would never do—

 _But what can you offer to this man?_ He froze at that, his eyes roaming on Satoh-san’s frame. He wants something, something that could destroy your yakuza but you’re not willing to give him his head on a silver platter—

He started to heave at the images rushing into his mind. He can’t do it—can’t sully his hands like that—bathing in redhead’s blood as he scurries the fuck away to some random lands—but he could—

_Oh._

Oh.

_He could—_

He took one shaky step towards the yakuza, followed by another one until he’s slowly staggering towards Satoh-san, who’s now eyeing him with interest. He doesn’t look alarmed, even if Taka is walking towards him like a drunk zombie with wide, teary eyes.

 _I’m already ruined anyway,_ Taka morbidly whispered to himself as he closed the distance between the plush chair the surgeon is sitting on, _no one could break me any further—_

_If I can’t give him his life, I can probably—_

He stopped, just a few inches from the man. He was so close, in fact, he’s already standing between the man’s parted legs, looking down—meeting the foxy look the yakuza is giving at him. Is he…is he really gonna do this—

“What’s this?” Satoh-san asked—his voice barely above a whisper as he looked up at him, “You’re changing your mind, Takahiro?”

“I—,” he swallowed the painful lump forming at the base of his throat, averting his gaze, “I can’t kill him,” he blurted out, ignoring the smug, “I know this would happen” look on the yakuza’s face, “I can’t kill anyone and besides…besides Toru-san might actually kill me first before I could even…even do that to him so…so if you’d like, I could…for my freedom…maybe I could—,”

 _Oh gods_ , he thought as he wordlessly sank on his knees before this man—Satoh-san’s eyes growing wide for a fraction of second before they turned into narrowed, dangerous slits. Taka shook on his spot on the floor, the plush carpet rubbing on the skin of his legs as his yukata was parted a bit in his motions. With shaking hands, he gripped the man’s legs, leaning forward and looking up at him with the most distressed face he had ever worn.

Whore.

_Whore._

_You’re nothing but a high-class whore_ —so what—so what’s wrong in using that leverage against these men? Use them— _use them the way they had used you—_

Warm, soft hands landed on his cheek, making him flinch at the unwanted contact. He could practically hear the hear on the mean’s heard turning and churning—weaving plots and dark plans to use this—to use Taka against the redhead yakuza—

“Oh…” Satoh-san softly mumbled, running his fingers along the curve of Taka’s jaws, his thumb pressing and testing the supple lips that immediately parted upon contact—the way Toru-san had trained his body to respond to his every will, to his every touches—, “You want to _destroy_ him like this…instead of killing him, you want to deliver the perfect revenge that might actually work on him…”

Taka numbly nodded, as he willed his hands to make a path, running his fingers to the man’s thighs, up to the knot tying his own yukata. With expert—never did he thought that undressing someone would be a skill he’ll gonna be proud of—hands, he undid the sash, revealing Satoh’s pale skin—almost completely inked, like Toru-san’s—but instead of a dragon, Taka came face to face with a lone wolf, with its nine tails curling around the yakuza’s shoulders.

_Whore._

“I’m sure Toru’s more extravagant than this,” he snapped his eyes back towards the face of the man, and blushed when he realized that he was just caught staring at his half-nakedness. He gulped once more and splayed his fingers over Satoh-san’s chest as he rose to lean even further—

_Whore._

—when the door suddenly burst wide open.

He almost falls all over the yakuza at the loud, harsh sounds of firing guns echoing inside the room. It was chaotic, and for a moment he thought that a bullet had actually hit him—with all those rounds, I wonder if anyone would come out of this room alive—but silence came—

There were groans and the sloshing sounds filling the air, the scent of blood thick in the atmosphere, making Taka’s head heavy and dizzy as he planted his hands over Satoh-san’s shoulders—Satoh-san who didn’t move a muscle, nor even bat at an eye at the sudden raid into his hideout. He just sat there, eyes twinkling in slyness, not even raising a hand to protect Taka nor to bring him out of the place, as Taka fought the urge to look back—because he was scared—

Scared that he would see the redhead Yakuza standing there— _eyes cold and unforgiving_ —as he stared at Taka and Satoh-san’s compromising positions—

Scared that he would just be shot there—a bullet going into his forehead to finally dispose him.

Scared that this act…this small act of offering Satoh-san something that Toru-san had wanted all for himself would cost him his brother’s life—

Scared—

“Taka-chan…”

He glanced over his shoulder in haste as he recognized that familiar voice. It was rougher and sounding tired, but he knows that— _Tomoya_ —relief flushed through his system as wiggled out of his spot to go to the usually jolly man’s side, a small smile forming on his lips as he—

Tomoya is here—

But Tomoya _wasn’t_ smiling. He looked at Taka, with great disappointment swirling beneath his orbs, his eyes roaming over the documents laid on the table, before giving Taka’s disheveled appearance an assessing look. Taka felt his heart dropped at that, at that cold, unfamiliar look on the man’s face—he had never thought that he would be seeing this man’s side like this anymore—

_Aniki won’t let someone off—someone who betrays him—even if it’s you—so don’t—,”_

“…oh, Taka-chan….” He mumbled in defeat, pain painted across his face—and suddenly, Taka was attacked with this feeling that, this is it— _he had finally done it_ —and Tomoya is already _mournin_ g for his inevitable end—the clicking of his gun aimed at him sounds like the last nail on his goddamned coffin, “Aniki won’t be happy with this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, fuck, Taka-chan, you're gonna be so fucked.
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts! I really enjoy hearing your predictions about the next chapters hohoho
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	23. This is the Price of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short because I can't connect it to the next chapter gaaaaaah
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: OOR is not mine.

_Of course he won’t be happy._

Taka grimaced as he tried to open the door one more time, but as expected, it didn’t yield to his pathetic attempts. He doesn’t know how much time had passed, when he was dragged out of Satoh-san’s hideout to this…this new place owned by the redhead yakuza. He hasn’t seen him—Tomoya said that his Aniki would summon him if he needs Takahiro’s presence, but for now, he’s to remain here—still and alone in a huge, lavishly furnished room to supposedly reflect on what he had done. But more importantly, _why does those people have hideouts as pretty as this?! Is this really a warehouse in some abandoned part of the city? Or are we in Toru-san’s yet another condo unit?_

Taka doesn’t know, he couldn’t ask anyone too. He was alone. Alone and cold and scared and _anxious._

 _What’s happening out there?_ What’s happening beyond this door? How many had died today? He could remember a lot of gunshots, and before Tomoya could cover his eyes as he dragged him away from Satoh-san, he could see the unmoving bodies of the yakuza’s men—laying face-first on the ground, blood pooling all around them. He had no idea on what happened to the auburn-haired leader—if he was caught, if he fought or if he’s been shot to death right on his seat.

And what would Toru-san say after this? What would he do? _If…if Toru-san would kill Satoh-san, then how about Hiroki?_

 _You dumb fuck_ , his mind chastised him in a very upset voice, _you should’ve thought about the consequences before acting up like that! You fully know that Toru-san would punish you in oh-so many ways—if he’s merciful enough to not kill you and your brother—when you decided to offer your body to Satoh-san!_

Dumb, _dumb, moron!_

Taka cringed at that imaginary voice, his hands grabbing a fistful of his curly locks to pull at it— _stop, stop, stop! I don’t wanna listen to you anymore—_

 _You don’t even listen to me, asshole. Look at what you’ve done now…you even dragged your brother into this—_ Taka’s eyes welled up with frustrated, guilt-stricken tears as he stared at the blank walls across him— _your poor little brother who’s definitely waiting for your pathetic ass to come home right now._

Hiro—Hiroki—Taka hiccupped, biting down on his lips to fight the devastating sobs from escaping his mouth. He shouldn’t cry, he had chosen this—chose to do this so he really doesn’t have any right to cry like he’s the _fucking victim—_

“Taka-chan.”

He was pulled out of his reverie when someone spoke beside him. His vision had turned blurry with all the unshed tears his holding, but even with them he could easily identify the black-cladded figure standing beside him.

“T-Tomoya…” he croaked out, noticing that sympathizing look on the otherwise usually bright face of the yakuza. His gun is nowhere to be found, probably tucked under the mysterious folds of their suits but taka couldn’t care less. He was just glad that someone…that there’s finally someone who would talk to him and tell him what’s happening…tell him what’s gonna happen to him…

No matter how painful and scary that is.

Tomoya smiled— _a small, pained smile_ —as he grabbed Taka’s thin wrist. He wants to shudder and just curl up at that look—pity, regret, and guilt were all evident on that one smile alone and he wonders…he wonders if he would be able to see Hiroki once more after this. His chest feels so heavy as the man urged him to take steps forward, slowly crossing the threshold of the room and into the dimly lit hallway.

“Where…” his voice was raw and cracking as he padded behind the yakuza, “where are we going, Tomoya…?”

The seaweed head didn’t respond and Taka felt this rage building up within him—add that to the welling anxiety and he was almost to his breaking point—he couldn’t take this anymore, the tension in the air is already killing him, suffocating him, so why not drop the fucking bomb already. _It’s unfair_ …really…that he would get something as torturous as this simply for yearning for freedom…

 _And he says that he could give everything to me,_ he bitterly thought.

But in the end, Taka felt tired. His knees are threatening to give away with every step he takes, the burden perched on his shoulder growing heavier and heavier with every breath he takes. He felt…helpless… _hopeless…_

“Tomoya…?” he tried again, softer, but with more desperation laced in his voice, “ _Tomoya…?”_

The man abruptly stopped before facing him. He was startled to see those narrowed eyes looking at him in fury, in betrayal, in accusation, “I’ve warned you before Taka-chan,” he lowly said, the hold on his wrist tightening for a bit. Taka couldn’t wince, couldn’t even blink under the blameful scrutiny of the man he had considered his friend, “I’ve warned you to never listen to him…to never betray Aniki because… _because_ …”

And in a matter of seconds, Tomoya’s strong façade showed its cracks, giving Taka a glimpse of the worried man, looking at him with so much pity and concern, before it was masked with this cold indifference again. Taka choked back the sobs as Tomoya turned away, and started walking again, the sound of his footsteps ringing so loud into Taka’s ears as he was left with no choice but to follow him.

“Aniki wants to see you, Taka-chan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Taka....
> 
>  
> 
> What do you think will happen gaaaaah
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	24. I Know I'm Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation hohohoho
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing and I apologize if they're too OOC in here. And also, for using Takeru Satoh like this. Please don't sue me.

Blood.

The first thing Taka had noticed upon entering that room at the end of the hallway was the sight of blood—bright, red liquid seeping from Satoh-san’s yukata. The man was sitting on a chair, his arms tied on the armrest, his chest has some painful slashes, the fabric around the fresh wounds were also torn, as if someone ran a hot, sharp knife on that skin—he looked beaten, but not broken, he was still smiling, most of his hair was left disheveled falling on his bruised face—as he grinned, like a maniac to Takahiro’s direction.

“Well,” he spat, “Lovely for you to finally grace us with your presence, Taka-pin— _mph_ —!”

Taka’s eyes widened in horror when a suit-cladded arm swatted Satoh-san’s face—hard, so hard he could see blood spraying into the air as the once proud yakuza was backslapped by the figure looming around the surgeon.

“You really,” Taka’s eyes, then, finally went to the other occupant of the room—towards the suit-cladded Toru-san who was eyeing the surgeon with so much hatred and distaste as he took off his black coat, the cloth dropping on the messy floor with a loud slump, “You really should start shutting the fuck up, Takeru,” he continued, eyeing the still-grinning man restrained on the wooden chair, “I won’t mind cutting your tongue if you’ll continue spouting nonsense, you know?”

“Hah,” a chuckle bubbled out of Satoh-san’s mouth at that—he was looking so smug, even having the injuries on his body—, “I was actually wondering on why you’re still not cutting _anything_ off of me, Toru. Don’t tell me you’re finally getting s _oft_?”

Instead of getting riled up, Toru-san just hummed, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows, “How would you do a fucking surgery if you’re missing an arm, you _dumb fuck_?”

_Surgery?_

Taka’s eyes zoomed towards the man’s face—and as if on cue—Toru-san finally regarded his presence in the room. His head lazily lolled back to glance at him—his eyes cold as steel and dark as ebony—looking at Taka’s form with bored, scrutinizing eyes. Taka gulped, starting to fidget on his spot—not really used on the man’s silence—and how his eyes raked every inch of Taka’s body.

It feels like he’s _undressing_ him just with those eyes…and the silence…the silence frightened him more than the thought of being injured at the hands of this man.

But back to that question the leader had said earlier...what surgery…? _Is he…is he still planning on pushing Hiroki’s surgery even after all this…this shit…?_ Even after what Taka had done…?

“You’re alright.”

Taka’s focus was brought back to the man who was now standing just a few inches away from him. He gasped, flinching at the warm, moist hand cradling his chin—slowly turning his face, checking his pale skin for any marks, any bruise, any signs of flaw that could’ve been brought to him during this fiasco—Taka let him be—holding his breath in fear of the yakuza currently holding him. He was oozing with this…scary aura, so dark and oppressive that Taka wants nothing but to just go on his knees—because that’s _probably the only thing you’re good at, on your knees, or taking a rock-hard cock into your mouth or ass_ —and beg for forgiveness. But he couldn’t, because that presence alone made him stiff as a rod, his muscles strained and rigid, ready for any slap or punch or pain that he could give to him.

Nothing came, though, and when Toru-san found no signs of injuries on his face, his hand travelled downwards—fingers caressing his neck, Taka unconsciously baring more of it in submission, before they glided towards the opening of his yukata—of Satoh-san’s yukata—down to his chest and abdomen, until they reached the knot tying the fabric over his body.

Wide, horrified eyes peered up at the man’s blank ones. He can’t be serious _? Does he…does he want to see me naked right…right in front of—_

“Tomoya,” he almost jumped on his spot when Toru-san spoke, the guard behind him suddenly alert and attentive to his master’s next words, “Leave.”

Taka expected something like a form of complaint, of refusal from the seaweed head—any words that would show his sympathy and concern for the singer’s well-being but instead of that, he heard a soft “Hai, Aniki,” making Taka’s eyes squeezed shut in betrayal. He thought that Tomoya is his friend—he—he had saved his life once, right? Had willingly let the man fucked him in a public place, in exchange of sparing Tomoya’s life— _and what did he get in return?_

 _Loyalty_ —he thought that he would get the man’s loyalty—but really, after Taka had blatantly tried to betray Toru-san—his boss, his Aniki, his oh-so precious leader, it’s just natural that Tomoya won’t hesitate to abandon him in the clutches of the leader.  _What are you expecting, Taka? That you could actually control these people…? The people who actually controls everything?_

Funny, he wanted to laugh— _that was so fucking hilarious._

He felt the man’s hand as the pried the yukata open, revealing his creamy, naked body to those heavily-lidded eyes. He had seen them all—kissed and bruised every inch of them countless of times so there’s really nothing new to stare that much on Taka’s body; but for some reason, Toru-san stared…stared and made Taka more uncomfortable than he already is, before he deemed him alright in his eyes.

“Where,” he husked, a hand placing itself at the base of Taka’s skull as he was pulled closer, so close until he could feel the man’s hot, moist breath fanning on his sensitive ear and the side of his face, “where did he touched you, Takahiro?”

Taka whimpered at that baritone voice, gasping as the man’s another hand trailed on his spine—feeling every bumps of it over the thin fabric of his clothes before resting at the small of his back. He gulped, not wanting to make the man angrier than he already is, before he answered, “h-he didn’t…he didn’t touch me…”

There was an unconvinced look on the man’s dark eyes before he smirked against Taka’s heated cheek, yanking his head a bit harder, “Let me rephrase that question, then—where did you touched him, Takahiro?”

Terror filled Taka’s eyes as he tried to escape the man’s grip around his body—but it was like steel, cold and hard and restraining—his struggling was futile. “Did you enjoyed it, hmmm? Enjoyed thinking that it’ll actually destroy me—when you lower yourself like a _common whore_ , kneeling before him, and running your curious, little hands over his body, hmmm, Takahiro?”

Taka shook his head in denial, a whimper of distress escaping his lips as Toru-san’s hand glided a bit lower, cupping the swell of his ass and stroking it—gently fondling and goddammit, making Taka’s breath labored in a matter of seconds.

_No, no—don’t do this—_

“And you know what’s more infuriating?” the man said, dipping lower to grabbed his chin and spoke directly onto his lips—, “It’s that…you did it willingly—without a blink of an eye—when you were struggling and denying and fighting me _every damn time_ I fuck you senseless,”

_—not here—_

Taka clamped his mouth shut, his lips getting over-sensitive as Toru-san’s glided over his with every word he spoke. He doesn’t want this, don’t want anyone to see him reduced to a helpless whimpering mess like this in front of the redhead leader.

“What did he promised you?” was the question that shook Taka’s core—because what if Satoh-san had spilled the beans, what fi Satoh-san had told Toru-san about his wish to kill the leader of the Yamashita clan— _what if he said that I’m…that I’m thinking about actually doing it…kill him…kill this…this person…_

“Freedom? Tomoya had brought me the papers,” Toru-san shoved him away, Taka staggering a few steps backwards until his knees hit the back of the sofa, giving out an allowing him to plop down on his ass as he stared in fear and shock at the stack of papers in the leader’s hands, “Such elaborate plan detailed here, huh? Passports, tickets, bank accounts, deeds of sale for a town house, college scholarship…he had already planned it out—,”

“I’m efficient,” was Satoh-san’s smug voice in the background, but the redhead yakuza ignored it as he bore his gaze onto Taka’s quivering form.

“—you had already planned it all out—,”

“N-no—,”

“—and you really think that you could escape me?”

He…

He had spoken those words with carelessness, with the pride befitting the most powerful man Taka had ever met—but…but deep within that perpetual state of oozing confidence, Taka could feel a hint of fear…a hint of _pain_ …at the thought that Taka would actually flee from him and damn…damn his masochistic side for feeling sorry for that, for making the man to utter those words in a low, hushed manner.

“I-I’m so—,”

“Remember this Taka,” the man cut him off, offering a hand towards him. Taka glanced at the hand, gulped before he decided to walked towards it, to take it—like a puppy desperate to please his master—he cringed when his hand was tightly enveloped with a larger one—pain and fear rushing through his system—fear that he would just crush his bones like this— _please don’t, how will I play the guitar if—,_ “You’re mine, _only mine—_ ,” he was pulled, practically dragged towards the chair where Satoh-san is being restrained, “Others could look at you, some can touch you, and everyone could admire you from afar but in the end—,” he felt a pressure on his shoulders as he was forced to kneel before Satoh-san—horror and dread painting his flustered cheeks as he was pushed farther in between the man’s parted legs.

It’s—

It’s almost the same position they had earlier but this feels more humiliating, this feels more infuriating and crushing—

“—this body,” warm hands splayed on his chest, roaming there before his chin was grabbed in a rough manner, forcing him to look up at Satoh-san, with Toru-san kneeling behind him—holding him captive and limp like a ragdoll—, “…is only mine to use _however_ I want it.”

“I-I’m so—,”

“Do you understand that, Takahiro?”

Tears welled up at the corner of his eyes as he bore the amused gaze of the auburn-haired yakuza. He could sense Toru-san’s anger right now, clinging to him and strangling him, the way those fingers harshly gripped his jaws when he didn’t answer right away.

“Do you understand, Takahiro?” he repeated and oh did Taka knows how the man hated repeating himself to anyone so he nodded, salty tears spraying everywhere as he vigorously nodded in affirmation—

“Yours— _only yours so please—please_ —,”

“Good.”

Taka let out a loud sigh of relief as his jaws were released, making him slumped over Satoh-san’s thighs. He had satisfied him with his answer, so maybe…just maybe, Toru-san would spare him—

“Now, let’s give my dear,” Taka winced at the bitter way the redhead yakuza had spat that word, “friend here a taste of what he’s been missing…”

“What do you mean—,”

“Oh,” was Satoh-san’s only response as his yukata was ripped open, exposing his undergarments and the obvious bulge— _he really did get aroused even in this situation?!—_ on his crotch to Taka’s wide, teary eyes. “Well, that’s gonna be—,”

“Shut up,” was Toru-san’s sharp reply as he nudged Taka’s body closer to the man, until he’s supporting himself on his arms braced on the surgeon’s muscular thighs. He shook his head, not really liking the idea of being so close in front of another man’s dick, nor the thought of pleasuring another man—, “Now, show him how _skillful_ your mouth is kitten.”

Taka shook his head, “I—I can’t,” making Satoh-san laughed uncomfortably above him.

“You heard the boy, Toru,” he said, shrugging his shoulder, “And I don’t really swing that way that much so—,”

“If you can’t make him come into his fucking pants,” Toru-san gritted out, face cold as ice as he almost shoved Taka’s face onto Satoh’s groin, “It’s your brother who’ll pay for your betrayal, Takahiro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
> ...  
> ...
> 
> Please tell me what you think. Thanks for reading~!


	25. Your Body Language is so Persuasive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huuuhhh, I don't know did I managed to write this shit.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

He looked startled at the statement, like he’s really gonna be sick and for a moment, Takeru thought that the boy would just hurl up all the contents of his stomach on his crotch looking as ill as that. But after a few moments of hesitation, Takahiro squeezed his eyes shut—breathing through his nose before they fluttered open once more and—Satoh sucked a deep breath when Takahiro had obviously changed his mind at those words, determination glazing over his glassy eyes as he stared up at him in pain. His hair was tousled and his skin is turning pink— _so soft, so supple—_ from what he could see from this view. Toru had ripped the boy’s yukata open earlier, showing the precious skin of the boy for the whole wide world to see and _gods if Satoh’s dick_ didn’t jump just by the sight and sound of the curly haired boy whimpering in his rival’s arms like that.

He had thought earlier—before that green-haired subordinate of Toru barged into one of his many hideouts—that it _wouldn’t be so bad_ to actually get a taste of Takahiro, see and feel and experience himself the man who had held Toru in his little pinky. And then he would make him _do_ things, pleasure him and record it and send it his friend, just to see how he would take the news that his _own little service kitten_ is giving…. sexy services to another person, to someone he hated so much with burning passion of all people.

But his fun was instantly cut off and look where he is right now—restrained with ropes, bruises decorating his body, hair disheveled like fuck and his entire frame is really shaking in pain and oh—let’s not forget this quivering bundle in front of him.

Takahiro kneeled, both of his little hands perched on his thighs as he leaned forward, wordlessly obeying his master’s—because _honestly,_ that’s what Toru is to Taka-pin, a cruel, merciless, perverted piece of shit he might be, but he’s still his _master_ , and Taka is the obedient little kitten who would do anything to appease him—orders.

“Well, you’re welcome to try your best—,” he gripped the armrest when Taka’s mouth made contact with his clothed erection, the boy _actually knows his game_ —gracefully mouthing the evident bulge in there, as his fingers trailed over the waistband of his boxers, boldly tugging it with his fingers—

“You look like you’re actually enjoying it, Takeru.”

His eyes landed on Toru’s form crouching behind the poor boy who’s eagerly pulling down his boxers. He couldn’t even completely pull it off his legs, the cloth pooling down on his ankles as his erection sprung free from its confines. Takahiro let out a yelp at the sight of his dick, but Toru just chuckled—totally not perplexed even by seeing another man’s privates.

“You’re a pathetic man for actually blackmailing him to do this, Toru.”

_That evil, conniving son of a bitch—_

He hissed when Takahiro immediately pawed on his dick, nimble fingers hesitantly wrapping around his girth, pumping with enthusiasm. Takeru looked down to see Takahiro’s eyes glazed—there’s a far-fetched look on the boy’s eyes— _hollow and glassy_ —like a doll that was being maneuvered by his puppeteer. He doesn’t like this— _any of this_ —especially when Takahiro would look up at him with a scared, lost look on his face.

 _Such innocent little doll,_ he thought, eyes glinting at his red-haired friend who was busy nipping Takahiro’s jaws and ears. The boy whimpered, whining at the pain caused by Toru’s teeth but his ministrations never falter. He’s used to this _, god,_ this innocent looking boy has been trained so much—to give pleasure to another man like this—

“Blackmailing is such a _strong_ word, Takeru,” Toru drawled, a hand gripping Takahiro’s jaw to force the smaller man to glance back at him. Takahiro looked so scared and yet he didn’t protest when his master captured his lips—those red, plump lips automatically parting to receive the harsh kiss—a showcase of _possessiveness,_ he’s sure—from the red-haired yakuza. He hated how the boy looked dazed for a moment before his face burst into a massive blushing spree after the kiss, eyes darting everywhere except on Takeru’s face. “Takahiro knows what he’s doing…and the _consequences_ if he won’t do it, right, Takahiro?”

The boy simply nodded, biting his lips as he returned his attention onto Takeru’s straining erection. He watched as Takahiro licked his lips—the nervous gesture came as seductive one to Takeru’s eyes—and started to lean down on his groin. He wasn’t a virgin— _far from it_ —but he visibly sagged in pleasure the moment those plump lips made contact on his hardened flesh. Maybe it was the thrill, the anticipation for knowing if the _rumors_ were true, if Toru’s _slut_ is so good that he actually kept him for _months—_ maybe it was because of the looming danger in the form of his friend that makes his blood sizzled—even more when Takahiro started to use his tongue—liking and nipping at the heated flesh just the right way—the small pains adding to Takeru’s building pleasure—

_Holy fuck, this kid is really—really—_

His hips bucked upwards, trying to get more of that wonderful, tight heat. He heard Takahiro choked for a moment but dammit, after a few seconds of breathing through his nose, he just went on his job as if he was so used doing that—

As if Takahiro was so _used_ on choking on _someone’s_ dick—

Squinting eyes snapped towards the redhead yakuza, his blood boiling in humiliation and fury at the smug, _“I-told-you-so”_ smirk on his lips.

— _Toru’s dick._

He scowled at that and instead, focus on the sensations he might only experience once—the soft, wet heat sliding over and all around his cock was lovely, and the sight of Takahiro was truly _stunning_ —on his knees, full lips stretched wide to fit all of Takeru’s erection. His thick, long eyelashes—glistening with unshed tears—fan against his blushing cheeks. That sight alone—more than the feeling of the warm mouth so enthusiastically sucking and licking at his arousal brought a slightly desperate moan past Takeru’s lips—his hips canting forward to thrust _, more, more—take it all in_ —and if he could just free his hands, he wouldn’t hesitate to drive his member into that silky cavern, fuck his mouth so hard he would be feeling the back of Takahiro’s throat—

“Okay, that’s it, kitten.”

Takeru’s eyes snapped open, shocked, as the familiar deep baritone filled his ears. Glazed eyes focused on the blur of red mess, a growl forced its way out of his throat as the heat suddenly left his erection—he was so close, _so fucking close—_

_That motherfucking bastard!_

Takahiro doesn’t need to be told twice, he instantly pulled his mouth free of his wide girth, leaning back on his master’s chest to breath—deep and multiple times, as if he’s just gotten out of the waters. He coughed for a few moments before he turned to Toru—leaving Takeru glaring and _painfully_ aroused.

“Y-you…” Takahiro mumbled in a raw, raspy voice—and Takeru was, for a moment, smug that he had caused that—, “You won’t hurt my…my brother anymore…?”

_Ah, silly, naïve Taka-pin, do you really think that this asshole would forgive you just for a simple blow job?_

To his surprise, Toru chuckled softly—amused at his pet’s pleading-like voice—before he stood up, dragging Takahiro with him to seat at the couch placed just a few feet away from Takeru’s own chair. He sat there, pulling the confused, sniffling boy to seat on his lap—facing Takeru.

_Oh for the love of god—_

“Why would I even hurt your brother?” Toru softly asked in a mockingly soothing voice as his hands fiddled with the opening of Takahiro’s yukata, slowly prying the already unraveled yukata—exposing the pink-tinted skin on Takeru’s dangerously slit-eyes. His eyes raked on the boy displayed just a few feet away from him, his cock standing even harder at the sight of those creamy supple skin, thighs straddling Toru’s slack-covered lap, his chest and shoulders decorated with fading and fresh love bites—

He looked completely debauched, completely used and yet, Takeru was attacked with this urge—with this desire to just reach over and _have a taste of the kid_ —because surely he’s great at this, great at the _art of pleasuring_ others, so great that he could actually capture the eye of the Yamashita Toru, of all people.

“I’m keeping Takeru, alive, you see?” Takahiro looked at him with frightened eyes—just realizing that he’s still there, sitting and practically salivating at the boy’s body—before his almond-shaped eyes flicked back to his captor, “He’s gonna save your brother, and everything would be alright—,”

“Then you’ll dispose of me, you fucking—,”

“But Takeru needs to be punished, too,” he said, glaring at him in full force, his hands travelling down on Takahiro’s chest, fingers playing with the hardened nub, smirking when he gained pitiful whines from the boy. Takahiro was smart enough to not stop the ministrations being done to him—his hands harshly gripping the armrests—but he still attempted to close his legs—trying to deny Takeru the sight of his growing arousal. Toru growled at that, reaching forward to spread the thighs straddling his legs, and biting down on the junction of Takahiro’s neck and shoulder to stop all his struggling. It was so _primal,_ the way Toru would assert his dominance, and the way Takahiro would instantly go limp, submitting to his master like the perfect little pet he is.

_And Takeru wants that too._

Wants Takahiro squirming on his lap, wants Takahiro making those cute kitty noises as Toru continued playing with his chest, tugging and pinching the pair of nubs, wants Takahiro to let out a startled gasp when the man’s hand trailed downwards—past his flat, creamy stomach to his own member. In a few seconds, Takahiro is rendered speechless, eyes glassy, cheeks burning red, and mouth parted open as he panted— _and Takeru had never been so hard in his life before._

It was pathetic, really—but he couldn’t stop his member from reacting at every sounds the boy would make, his pleas going left unheard by the two yakuza leader as their greedy eyes and ears focused on those pleasured yet confused sounds _—“sto—oh—op—can’t…can’t anymore…please…please…Toru-san—!”—_

He was _so much better_ than this, he used to have more patience than this but his cock wouldn’t listen. His arousal is bordering to painful, he can feel all of his blood rushing downwards, towards the engorged tip, and if Takahiro would continue moaning and throwing his head back like that— _as if the boy wasn’t enjoying his master’s attention_ —Takeru was so sure that his balls would just explode any moment from now.

 _Toru was evil_ —Takeru had decided—making him experience that pleasure, only to take it away so abruptly and now, made him watched as he practically devoured Takahiro in front of him—while Takeru is painfully hard and wanting, lust and desire flowing thickly inside his veins.

And being the evil, wicked creature that he is, Toru obediently stopped fondling and pleasuring Takahiro with his hand. Takahiro let out a loud distressed sound—so loud that it shook Takeru and even himself—before he worriedly glanced over his shoulder where Toru’s head is perched, idly watching the straining erection of his pet as it came to life.

“T-toru-san…?”

“You’re right, I should stop,” Toru said, smirking against the flustered skin, one of his hand grabbing Takahiro’s smaller one and guided it on the boy’s already leaking member, “Maybe you should do it yourself…?”

“B-but—,”

“Touch yourself, Takahiro,” Toru huskily ordered, “Touch yourself and show your pleasured face to Takeru—,”

Wide terror-filled eyes snapped towards at him—and Takeru should really be insulted that the boy had kept on casually forgetting that he’s still… _well,_ there, and _existing_ but the sight of the said boy was just too pretty to actually be mad on him.

“Show him something that he would never have, come on,” and oh the evil, motherfucking friend of his started to guide Takahiro’s nimble fingers along his own member, Takahiro pressing his lips closed as he leaned back on the muscular chest, letting his master use his hand to pleasure himself, “Do it, kitten.”

And Takahiro was nothing but an _obedient little kitty._

Takeru watched as Toru retread his hand, allowing Takahiro to please himself by running his skillful fingers on his weeping erection, hands gliding up and down, his body quivering and his mouth letting out sounds and moans after moans—

Fuck. _I wanna fuck—_

Takeru clenched his fist on the wooden armrest, his nails painfully digging at the skin of his palms at the immense desire flooded his system. After he had disposed of Toru, he would take Takahiro as his lover. He might not give him an heir, but he would be perfect _plaything_ for him when he rules the Japanese underground world. He doesn’t take spoils from other people, but he’ll make an exception for the curly-haired boy—Toru has trained him so good, and Takeru was so fucking glad for that because once this bastard is killed—he’ll have it all, power and treasures and this lovely, little creature. Oh, the heavy need and wants make his head dizzy.

“Ah, look at our dear friend over there,” Takeru’s blown pupils darted towards the smirking bastard, “He looks ready to spill it, don’t you think so, Takahiro?”

“I— _uhm—ah, please…just…just touch…mhmmm_ …” was the boy’s incoherent response as he continued to stroke his dripping flesh, eyes glazed and hips almost bucking into the air to gain some friction.

“Look at how much power you’ve got, making another person at the top of the line to get himself wet for you…”

Takahiro’s now-heavily lidded eyes throw a curious glance at him, the glassy orbs roaming around his face going down to the tattoos sprawled against his cheek, down until it focused on his rock-hard cock, before he hastily averted his gaze—whimpering like he had just seen something so _revolting and scary._

“don’t w-wanna…just…just…”

“Look how pretty you are, touching yourself like that, giving him a show he’ll never forget at the rest of his _pathetic_ life…” Toru hummed, his teeth playing with the curve of the boy’s red-tipped ear. Takahiro’s lips parted, letting out a small whine, as his hips squirmed restlessly as he fondled himself. Toru then glanced at him— _eyes clear and dark all together_ —, “And you actually thought that you could lay your hands on this pretty kitten, huh, Takeru?”

He…

He wanted to laugh at that. Really, his cock is starting to hurt really bad and the urge to laugh was a welcomed distraction to his raging desires, “W-what’s,” he hated it, when he stuttered like that, swallowing down before trying to act so cocky once again, “What now, Toru? You’re jealous because this…” he regarded Takahiro who seemed to be so lost in his own world, hands pumping hard and fast as he was almost leaning back on Toru’s chest, “…this pretty kitten has decided to come to me, to offer himself to me in exchange of something that you could never give him?”

“Oh, but I can give him _everything,_ Takeru—,” Toru nonchalantly waved a hand, “He’s just too naïve to see that, but in the days to come, especially after his punishment has been served, he will know nothing except of me— _will need nothing aside from me_.”

Takeru narrowed his eyes at that. He doesn’t like it when Toru is talking like this, like he has already planned something—something that even Takeru couldn’t get a hand onto—something that he knows will bring chaos to everything and everyone involved in it.

“T-toru-san…” two sets of gleaming eyes landed on Takahiro’s squirming form when he whimpered so loud, “Please…please…can I…can I—,” he said the words between sobs, “Can you…you… _please…_ ”

Toru turned his attention to his distressed pet, “What’s that, Takahiro? You were saying something…?”

 _Urgh,_ Takeru wanted to hurl up his intestines at that, if his mind wasn’t just too busy from stopping his cock from just spurting out his release, creaming himself like a goddamned high school kid. The look of pure agony on Takahiro’s tear-streaked face was just too much, really, _how can Toru resist that angel who’s practically begging to be touched?!_

“U-use your hand…”

Takeru’s mind was almost blown at that, the midget has actually the—he wanted to say _balls_ , but he decided to use another term— _guts_ to order the man around, like a slave or something. And what’s more surprising is that, Toru allowed and entertained it.

“Use my hand where, Takahiro?”

The curly-haired boy bit his plump lip, trying to remember whatever the fuck he’s about to say, because he looks like his mind is almost too clouded in pleasure, “P-please…on my… _on my_ …c-cock…”

He watched with growing fury and disgust when Toru’s lips curled up in a smirk, “You were a naughty boy, Takahiro, pawing on someone when you’re fully aware who you belong to…” he said before he abruptly stood up, Takahiro’s eyes snapping open as he was manhandled—Toru trudging towards his chair. Takeru narrowed his eyes, unconsciously licking his lips in anticipation as Taka was held, standing—his pink, little cock straining and already dripping, was just a few inches away from Takeru’s face.

“Wha— _hah_ —!”

He had a glimpsed of it, before it was covered with a larger hand, tattooed wrist jerked the boy’s member, making Taka’s knees buckled under the ministrations, and if it weren’t just for Toru’s another arm wrapped around his midsection, Takahiro would definitely melt in a pile of heated flesh and limbs all over his lap.

He wants that.

“You actually offered yourself to someone who was beneath the dirt,” he glared up, looking straight at Toru’s eyes which were equally glaring down at him as he pumped his hands over Takahiro’s erection, “Remember your place…”

Takeru doesn’t know who was Toru talking too, because at that moment, all of his attention was focused on Takahiro’s face—eyes squeezed shut, nails digging on Toru’s inked arms, his face scrunched up in search for release— “I—I can’t—anymore—plea— _ahn_!”

Takeru had lost all of the pretenses and denials as he saw the boy’s face contorted in the explosive pleasure—before he knew it, he was already rutting his hips mindlessly into the air, cock standing hard and heavy, head arched back as he watched Takahiro’s body tensed forcefully, giving a strangled sob as he painted Toru’s hand— _and Takeru’s face_ —with his pleasure—his entire body quivering and jerking with so much pleasure and overload of sensations.

Takeru breathed heavily, barely aware of the pearly, sticky splatter on his face. His mind is in daze, his mouth parted open in post-orgasmic bliss as he came— _the pleasured face of Takahiro was too much—_ his sounds, the flustered skin, his body mindlessly giving into pleasure—and never did before he had wanted someone so much. He’ll be perfect for me—screw allowing him to live somewhere else _, I’ll lock him down, locking him to my room and tied to my bed and taste and feel and covet him_ —all of Takahiro—

“Well, that wasn’t so hard,” his eyes snapped back into reality when Toru spoke, pulling Takahiro a’s limp, almost boneless body away from him. Takahiro whimpered, not really putting any effort to stand upright, letting the yakuza to support him and do everything as he pleases. He looked completely wrecked, and Takeru felt his groin stirred once more at the thought of being able to do that to boy too, soon… _soon…_

And then Toru’s scathing eyes were on him once more, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “Making a pathetic, coveting piece of shit come like a _bitch in heat_ wasn’t so hard, nee, Takahiro?”

Takahiro was long gone, had already escaped into the blissful embrace of unconsciousness—leaving Takeru growling, and with this desire to kill Yamashita Toru growing much stronger within him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Crawls under the Christmas tree to hide.
> 
> Was that enough? That's the only sex-thingy that our Satoh-san could get in this chapter so please tell me what you think of it~
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	26. So Blinded I Can't See the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure if this can happen in real-life, the transition was too quick but I don't have much time for the timeline and Takahiro is already too much unstable anyways so I thought, that could justify his emotions in this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is just a product of my imagination. Please don't sue me.

Takahiro is cold.

He was lying on a soft mattress, covered with a thick duvet but he was _still cold._ He’s not used waking up alone—or without someone spooning him from behind. In the past few weeks that he had spent with Toru-san, the leader would always require his presence on his bed— _cradling him, caressing him_ —like a gentle lover would, as if he wasn’t pounding _ruthlessly_ into him a few seconds ago—until Taka falls asleep.

Taka would always wake up, warm, in the tight embrace until the yakuza finally decides to get up and start another day, but it was different now. He doesn’t want to wake up, he thought, as he tried to snuggle deeper into the bed. His sleepy mind couldn’t remember most of what happened yesterday—he could vaguely remember Toru-san dragging him into another room and fucking him into the mattress countless of times until Taka can no longer lift even his fingers. He washed him—cleaned Takahiro up in a gigantic tub filled with bubbles and warm water—before he was deposited into his bed.

But where was he now?

_How long did I even slept since that day? Was it just yesterday—_

Takahiro’s mind froze at that.

Yesterday?

That means… _today is…_

“Hiroki!” Taka gasped, bolting up in a sitting position as he finally realized that he was missing something important. Today was his brother’s surgery! Takahiro should be there; Taka must be there but—

Darkness.

He blinked, countless of times but it was dark—and no amount of light was penetrating that room. Where—this is not his room, this is not the bastard’s room— _so where the fuck am I?!_ He tried looking for something but it was pitch black, everything feels hollow yet Taka was scared that there’s something that would just come out and get him. He shook his head, blinking once more, hoping that he could see anything, even a miniscule of light would do but to his frustration, nothing happened.

He stared to heave in panic, fear rising into his system as he patted his way towards the edge of the bed. Had he gone blind? Does the bastard gouged out his eyes or something?! _What about Hiroki?! What’s gonna happen to Hiroki?_

Taka’s legs finally reached the edge of the seemingly huge bed, he tried to get up, only to plop back on his butt as pain zapped through his spine—from his lower back up to every roots of his hair. It hurts, even more when he was sprawled on the floor, eyes brimming with tears.

What happened?

Where’s the light?

_Why isn’t there any light?_

_Hiroki needs me…I need to get out…Hiroki…_

He sniffled, whipping his face with shaking fists as he started crawling—he wants to reach the walls, splay his hands on it and feel wherever the fuck is the goddamned door. He can’t be locked like this, not when Hiroki needs him— _please, please, not now—_

But the room seems to be so big, or maybe Taka was just so slow and weak as he practically crawled on his knees—touching, feeling the cold hard floor. He can’t feel any clothes on him— _maybe that’s why I’m cold_ —but he couldn’t care less. He needs to find the goddamned door!

Hiroki…Hiroki…

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The silence stretched into minutes until it became hours, until Taka couldn’t tell how long he has been inside that god-forsaken room. He has found the door, but as expected, it was locked. There’s no handle nor knob that he could hold on to pull it open. It was dead flat, even the seams not allowing any kind of light to filter through the room. After a few while of scratching and clawing and screaming at the door, Takahiro grew tired. This can’t be happening. _Is this his punishment for what I did yesterday? To actually locked me up in here?!_

He sobbed once more, pulling his naked knees closer to his chest. The darkness seems to be eternal— _something that warps time_ —something Taka couldn’t escape even if tries to open his eyes wide. He stayed pressed against the door for god-knows-how-long already. His eyes were tired and puffy from crying but he tries to make them stay wide as possible as they could—hoping, praying— _begging_ —for some tiny flicker of light to return to him. But there was nothing. Nothing aside from that red dot in the far corner of the room—the dot, probably a camera sensor or something—was the only thing that he could see and fuck if it doesn’t remind him of the bright magenta haired of the leader.

_I pissed him off…_

_I disobeyed Toru-san…so here I am…_

“I don’t wanna be here…” he whimpered against his wet skin, “Hiroki needs me…oh god…”

What if his brother thinks that Taka has abandoned him in the most important turn of his life? What if Hiroki was abducted too, Toru-san torturing him to make Taka pay for being a disobedient little shit? What if he wouldn’t be able to get out of this place? Wouldn’t be able to see the world outside of this room anymore?

_I can’t…someone…please save me…_

Tomoya…

_Toru-san…_

The more time that passed—it’s not like he really could tell the pass of time; he had lost the sense of it a while ago—the harder his heart started to pound in frantic beats. He was too aware of the silence that even his own ragged breath sounds so loud in this dark voice. No one’s coming for him, even if they are watching him right now, no one would rescue him because…because…

 _This is a punishment,_ he finally conceded, for going against his words… _I deserve—_

His breath hitched at that. He looked across him, seeing nothing but the unadulterated, impenetrable shadow. The room feels like it’s getting smaller as Taka started to panic—trying his damn best to ignore the thoughts that there’s someone lurking out there ready to drag him and eat him. He pulled his limbs together, closer to his core in fear of the unknown, unreal creatures his mind is fabricating at the moment.

_I should’ve been good…_

Taka squeezed his eyes shut, letting the vivid memories of yesterday flood through his mind. He has Hiroki smiling widely at him, bags packed and hugging him before he left—there was the sun, there was air, there were sounds all around him—there was Tomoya and his bright smiles, there were those suited guards posted everywhere and there was Toru-san…everything seems so fucking bright and colorful to Taka’s mind right now—but when he opened his eyes—it was still the same, never-changing darkness that greeted him.

_I should’ve been good—_

He had taken those stuffs for granted—and now he doesn’t _have anything—_ no food, no warmth, no sound, no light—he had nothing—the walls not giving anything, not the movements behind the doors, and the faint sound of his own panicked breathing was too empty, too hollow to be even real.

_—if I was good then I wouldn’t be here—_

It was too much emptiness, too much of nothingness—and this…this suffocating void overwhelms him—he choked back another sob. He tries feeling the wall behind him, the floor beneath him because he swears he can feel them moving towards him in the dark.

Room…the room…

 _It’s so small_ —he hiccupped, panting to regain his breath—it’s getting smaller— _is it getting smaller?!_ It was getting hard to breathe; his lungs are already straining to take in more of air. It feels like it’s gonna burst or something, and no matter how third he tried breathing, it’s never gonna be enough—

_I shouldn’t have made him angry—_

Stupid, stupid Takahiro!

_Look at what you’ve done!_

_Look at what he can do to you—_

Stupid!

How about Hiroki now?

What’s gonna happen to his precious baby brother? Is he alright? Will he be alright? When can Taka see him? How long does he have to wait? How long until Toru-san can forgive him...?

Is he…

_Will he leave me here to rot…forever?_

That thought scared Taka the most—because…because if Toru-san would actually leave him here—all alone in the dark, he’ll definitely go crazy—as a fresh set of tears streaked down his moist cheeks. He doesn’t want this…he doesn’t want this darkness…this nothingness…the despair clinging to him—enveloping him, devouring him—

_Help me…please…help me…._

_I don’t wanna be here…!_

Time passed by—hours, days, weeks—Taka couldn’t really tell anymore. He might be sitting there for a few hours but it feels like an eternity when you’re left with nothing—nothing with this darkness. He couldn’t tell when he was awake or when he had fallen asleep, or when the massive pounding on his chest or the harsh breathings were real or he was just imagining them or what.

_I’m sorry…_

_I’m so—sorry—_

He hiccupped. He has never regretted anything in his life—well except for that one, rainy night when he was being a complete brat—losing the lives of their parents and a brother in the process—as much as his pathetic attempt to grab freedom from Satoh-san’s hand. He _should’ve never_ listened to him, _should’ve never_ entertained the thoughts he had planted into his mind. He _should’ve’ listened_ to Tomoya’s warning, should’ve taken Toru-san’s threat seriously.

_I fucked up…. I fucking fucked up—so goddamned stupid—_

Toru-san was… _Toru-san is the only one who can save me_ …he grimly thought. Locked in dark cell, Taka could only now appreciate those comfortable beds, the warm touches, the gifts…just the freedom to live in his own apartment, the taste of living comfortably with his brother…he just learned their importance and how spoiled he has been now that everything has been taken away from him.

And now, if Toru-san would stay mad at him…

If Takahiro makes another dumb decision that could anger the man—he would suffer this again—

He can’t—

He won’t—

_I don’t wanna be here…save me please…_

_Please, Toru-san…_

He wailed, loud gasps and sobs spilling from his lips as he cradled his head. He wants Toru-san to come back and pick him up. Toru-san could save him, he’s powerful, he’s the leader— _he’s everything Taka could ever be thankful for_ —he could give him light, could give his brother his health, could give Takahiro life—

It was Toru-san who has valued him so much—amidst the crowd in that high-end club, only Toru-san actually got interested in him—he still couldn’t fathom how the man got attracted to him—but it doesn’t matter right now, because he was treasured, he was cared for, he was…he was loved—

_And what did you do?_

_You tried betraying him—you’re even planning to kill him, remember?_

_So blind and so fucking dumb, Takahiro,_ his mind chastised him in an exasperated manner.

Toru-san was the _only person_ who yearned for him—the only person who dared to get too close to him, the only person who wanted to touch him—aside from his brother— _whether it was to molest and force him or to just gently caress his face, his arms, running his fingers through his sweaty locks._ Toru-san was the only one offered help for his brother—to take care of everything for Hiroki’s surgery—the only one who would do something so great for someone so pathetic as him.

_I’m sorry…I’m sorry—_

Toru-san has gently touched him, has washed him in his porcelain bath, his hands running and cleaning him up. Toru-san has dressed him, has sunk on his knees for him, has given him so much pleasure instead of just taking it forcibly from him every goddamned time. Toru-san was the source of every misery and ecstasy Takahiro has ever experienced in his short life.

“I-I’m sorry—I won’t do it again—,” he sobbed out, his voice rough and cracking as he shivered in cold.

 _Toru-san was all he had—_ Toru-san has taken everything Taka has—and right now? Taka would be more than glad to surrender everything to him because without him—he’ll surely die—Hiroki, his innocent little brother would die, and everything would cease to exist—

He will break down into pieces—to the point of no return—so Toru-san should—should take him back and Taka _would do everything to please_ him, will follow every command of the redhead leader—

“I—I won’t…I won’t make you mad ag—again!” he whimpered, “Please forgive me…Toru-san…T-toru-san…”

He was getting dizzier, the sobs wrenching his poor, shivering frame. He couldn’t take it anymore; someone should save him—Toru-san should come back for him—

_Take me, take me out of this place—_

_I’ll do anything—even if I have to follow you around naked and on my knees just please…please take me out of here…._

_Save me…_

“I’ll be good,” he wailed, loud and devastatingly pained as he dumped his tear-streaked cheeks on his arms once more, “I promise I’ll be good…”

The sound of his cries and screams were horrifying, haunting two pairs of eyes as they watched Takahiro clawed on his skin on the monochromatic monitors. It was so chilling— the sound of Takahiro whimpering and calling out to his master very much like a dog left out in a cold, cold night.

“Please…Toru-san…t-take me back…I’ll be g-good… _Takahiro would be good_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cringes at that shit
> 
> Please tell me what you think of this chapter tho. Any feedback would be very much appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	27. Don’t be Shy Whenever You Want Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, shit, December is ending and here I am slicing chapters into shorter ones gaaaaaaahhh
> 
> Disclaimer: This is all but a product of imagination. OOR is and will never be mine, so please don't sue me.

 “Aniki…”

Toru looked up from the lighted end of his cigarette at that pleading voice of Ryota. they’ve been in that surveillance room for a few minutes now—Toru has to do some stuffs, which include forcing Takeru to go back to the hospital; to patch himself and deem him ready to do the surgery. The fool doesn’t have any choice either way, because Toru would surely crush his own clan if he would still attempt to take something that’s not his. He also asked Tomoya to fetch and make sure that Takahiro’s brother is alright until he gets to the hospital. They wouldn’t want something— _like the fact that his brother is missing_ —to trigger Hiroki’s illness. It’ll lessen the probability of his survival, or so, that damn samurai had warned earlier. He doesn’t really have to listen to Takeru but there’s nothing to lose if he’ll be careful.

Besides, Takahiro would be sad if something bad would happen to his precious little brother.

Takahiro who has been screaming and crying and clawing to the walls for hours now.

It has been just eight hours since he had placed the boy in that cell—sound proof and sealed—but he knows that the singer probably thinks that it has been forever since he’s been locked. Darkness is a formidable enemy—makes you lose sight, makes you lose the sense of space and time—a never-ending voice—and added with the lack of sound—Takahiro was bound to break down, like what he’s doing right now.

“What?”

“Don’t you think it’s enough, already…?” his childhood friend asked in hesitation. He regarded his friend with a cold, callous smirk.

“You’re getting soft, eh, Ryota?” he took a drag, the smoke billowing all around them, “You have been torturing hundreds of traitors for _hours_ but now you can’t stand hearing him cry like that?”

_“I-I’m sorry—I won’t do it again—,”_

Taka’s sobbing voice filled the speakers—it was so loud, so heart-wrenching, making his friend cringed on his seat in front of the monitors.

“But this is Mori-chan, Aniki…” Ryota pressed on, “Are you really sure that you have to…to hurt him like this…?”

“I still haven’t physically hurt him for what he’d done—,”

“How about you?” Toru glared at the man who dared to cut his words off. Ryota looked pale, knowing he possible repercussions of his actions but he stood his ground against his own leader, “Aren’t you hurting just by hearing him like that?”

_“I—I won’t…I won’t make you mad ag—again! Please forgive me…Toru-san…T-toru-san…”_

Toru glanced at the monitor, the night-vision making it easy to see Takahiro’s hunched and shivering form. The singer is curled up in front of the door, arms propped on his knees as he rocked back and forth— _crying, sobbing, praying—_

He deserves this.

_He’s lucky I didn’t cut his head off his goddamned shoulders._

_He’s lucky I didn’t let my men have their ways to him._

_He’s lucky I still took him back—_

He’s—

_“I’ll be good…I promise I’ll be good…”_

 “One hour,” he snapped, pushing himself off the plush swivel chair, “I’ll be back in an hour and I’ll let him out. “

He needs to get out—go in an autopilot mood and be the leader everyone expected him to be—expressionless, emotionless. He should focus on his work for a few minutes—on gaining money and power—controlling manipulating and dominating the world he knows like the back of his hand. He refuses to be here, looking at nothing but the bland gray walls and the haunting form of his pet sitting against the wall—he can’t stop and just watch because if he does…if he stops even for tiny fracture of a second…he wouldn’t be able to stop the thoughts—of Takahiro fleeing away with Satoh, of Takahiro letting Takeru fuck him, allowing it, returning the grand gestures of affection, of Takahiro burying a sword or planting a bullet into his head—from filling his mind.

The bitter pain caused by Takahiro’s betrayal that hurts even more than the wounds he had gathered all these years.

“Watch out for him until then, Ryota,” and with that, Toru turn his back and marched towards the door, ignoring the relieved sigh on the yakuza’s face, Takahiro’s whimpering’s—

_“Please…Toru-san…t-take me back…I’ll be g-good…Takahiro would be good…”_

—so loud in his ears before it was abruptly cut off when he slammed the door shut.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Taka was startled when he heard a hissing sound behind him, the flat door rumbled and for a moment he thought that there was a motherfucking earthquake. _Oh great, I’m trapped here and now the walls are shaking_ —but then, a thought slowly formed in his mind—

_Wait, the…the door is opening…?_

He scrambled back, limbs tangling in awkward manner as he moved out of the way, watching as the first slivers of light flooded his eyes. It has been too long— _hours? Days? Weeks?_ He couldn’t know—since he saw one, his eyes squinting at the blinding brightness of the corners.

Maybe he had died and is now going to the afterlife? Because there’s light—there’s finally light—

And…

And…

Taka’s eyes were already puffy and swollen but he couldn’t fight the stinging of another set of tears when he saw a familiar silhouette in the brightness. Someone is here, someone is walking into the room, crouching before him, _someone who’s warm and safe—_

There’s…

_Toru-san—_

Taka shivered as he practically curled towards the man, flinching when the shadow deeply sighed, stretching out a tattooed arm towards his face. He thought, _really,_ that he’s gonna hit him—but he won’t complain, he won’t struggle because he _deserves_ it—as long as he won’t be left here alone again, as long as he can see Hiroki again—but instead of a painful slap or punch, a gentle hand slides across Taka’s cheeks, wiping the beads of tears that were just about to fall from his eyes. Taka eagerly pressed to the hand, starving for warmth and contact.

“Ah, Takahiro…” his voice was rough and low— _like he was also in pain_ —but it washes away all of Taka’s fears down in an instant. He’s here, he’s here to take me back, I know him—he’ll keep me safe, keep me warm, make Hiroki live, “…why do you have to make me punish you like this?”

With his blurry vision, Taka dared to look up at those heavily-lidded eyes. They’re like sucking him in, guilt coursing through his veins as he was scrutinized right down to his very soul at that moment.

“You know that I would rather treat you gently, give you everything, shower you with gifts— _clothes, money, food, and even your brother’s life_ —so why…” the gentle hands suddenly gripped his jaw in a harsh manner, fingers digging onto the smooth curves of his jaw as he gasped and tried to shy away, “…why did you fucking betrayed me…?”

Taka whimpered at the sound of that voice—though nothing really changed from its usual deepness, he could hear a bit of disappointment and pain lacing it—before he tried to make eye contact to the redhead.

“I’m…I’m—,” he hiccups, “I’m sorry…” his face held the epitome of begging and desperation as a hand clutched the man’s sleeve—after missing a few times—holding the man’s free hand to cage his cheeks in their warmth, “I’m sor—I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” he whispered.

The leader hummed for a while, inspecting Taka’s crying face before he finally sighed, “I don’t know…words were _hollow,_ you know, Takahiro? I’m not sure if I could accept your apologies right now,” blank eyes narrowed down at him, “You really made me very, very angry, Takahiro.”

Taka flinched at that. He was so used hearing Toru-san say his name-but not like this…it feels like his skin is prickling, his heart pounding so bad as he thought of all the implications of the man’s mood right now. In desperation, he grabbed the man’s sleeves hardened and tried begging once more, “I’m sorry—I’ll—I’ll be good—I’ll really be good—I’m sorry, please…please…”

Toru-san just blankly stared at him, dousing the little flicker of hope within him with ice cold water. He tried to bite his lips in an attempt to prevent himself from crying—but it was too late—a shuddering sob already crept out from his quivering lips as panic crushed his heart in a vice grip. What to do—what to do—he’s gonna be angry again— _I don’t wanna be here again—Hiroki needs me—_

What does he want?

_What do you want?_

_I’ll do it—please—please—!_

_“You'd like that, don't you? Besides if you do good, maybe I'll even let you off for tonight, hmmm?”_

Taka’s eyes widened as realization dawned upon him—Toru-san doesn’t want verbal apologies—if Takahiro wants the leader’s mood to get better, he should do something about it. Something that he was actually _good_ at—

_“Plus, a mouth like this shouldn’t go wasted.”_

His stomach twisted into vicious knots of fear and fury and desperation knowing that it might not really work, but at least there’s hope and even if it’s making his insides want to crawl up to his throat, it was still a possible way out of this dark, dark hell.

And that’s all that matters—

_I need to make him happy—_

Takahiro’s wide, horror-filled eyes fell into a hopeful, pleading ones as he nuzzled against Toru-san’s hand, “Please…please…let me apologize…I’ll make it up to you, Toru-san, I’ll be good…really _, really good…_ ”

Toru-san’s intense eyes regarded him for a while, one of his brows arching in curiosity, “I don’t know, Takahiro. What can you offer to make me accept your apologies?”

Taka gulped at that, his face burning in shame, “I—I can make you feel good…” he whispered, pressing towards the yakuza, “Real, real good…Tor— _M-master…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would Taka do? And Master WTF
> 
> Please tell me what you think of this shit. Thanks for reading~!


	28. Go On and Fuck Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's with the Chapter Title. Fuck yourself, really??? And I didn't planned this shit to be updated on Christmas like a lovely present or something~
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, please don't sue me.

The word probably did the trick, because Toru-san’s mouth formed a twisted smirked—satisfaction? Interest? – can be seen on his face, before he properly sat on the floor, back resting on the cold, hard walls.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, then, Takahiro.”

Takahiro instantly obliged, both of his shaking hands and eyes focused on the belts and buttons and zippers of the man’s trousers. He was _overly enthusiastic_ , failed on unbuckling the goddamned belt for a few times before it was finally removed. He felt sick—no, _Takahiro of months ago_ would feel sick at his eagerness when he crouched down—ass sticking up into the air and curly tendrils of his hair falling down to his face—and engulfed Toru-san’s cock into his mouth. He recalled everything that could make the leader groan, the times he had spent lapping and licking and sucking—the angle of his head and the pump of his nimble fingers that could make the man grunt in pleasure, praise him while he was on his knees, and Toru-san was balls-deep into his mouth—

“Nnnh…”

Takahiro inwardly celebrated when he felt the familiar fingers threading to his mane, and he dared to look up, the sight of the leader with his head arched back in pure ecstasy was too much— _I’m doing good, I’m doing good—just a bit more—_

The once sickening sounds of sucking and slurps filled the air, but he couldn’t care less—the world could end and he won’t give a fuck because right now, all that matter was to give him pleasure, make him satisfied and happy so that Takahiro won’t have to be confined here all alone and in the dark—

“So good…”

Toru-san lowly groaned, a soft thud echoing in the silence as his head tipped back onto the wall. _It was working!_ He licked a bit more eagerly, bracing his hands onto the man’s hip for leverage as he sucked and swallowed everything he could muster—his tongue sliding and swirling like there’s no tomorrow, very eager to please—

_Please, please, come—_

_Please—_

And after what it seems like forever, the yakuza’s hand found his hair, fingers grabbing the strands as the tension rode through the man’s body—Taka’s eyes fluttering wide open as he felt the thick liquid filling his mouth. He has learned enough lesson, swallowing every drop of it—his throat and mouth almost milking the man dry.

“Good, take it…” Toru-san was groaning above him, watching him with intense, heavily-lidded eyes, “Swallow it all, Takahiro…”

He— _for once_ —gladly obliged, licking him clean after the leader’s release has stopped. But he was still hard—and it makes Taka face a new dilemma. Still not enough, he though as he gazed at the man’s still erect member, more— _I need to do more—_

He gulped hard and licked his lips as he gently pushed himself off the man crotch, nuzzling at the hand resting on his hair before he moved to straddle the man’s bare lap. He hissed as their erections made contact—the warm, wet flesh gliding on his own neglected one, as Toru-san’s hand instantly latched on his back to support him.

“You…?” was the one only word that could mumble out of those perfectly shaped lips before Taka has gripped both of their cocks in both of his hands—which was too small to actually hold it together, and grinded down. “Fucking Christ—,”

Takahiro took that as an order to go on, because Toru-san needs this, Toru-san looks like he’s enjoying it, and the warmth on his back feels nice—Taka needs this to live, to see Hiroki soon; needed it just as much as the leader. His hips rolled— _undulating and twisting_ —the sensual motions make his heart thump a wild beat, the slide of flesh against flesh, the breath against his cheeks and those eyes captivated with his movement makes him so fucking high—

“Ahn…you—y-you—,” he hiccupped, barely tasting Toru-san at the back of his tongue, “you like it, Toru-san…? You like…l-like this…?”

Toru-san didn’t bother to answer him as he gripped his ass—rough and harsh—his fingers would surely leave bruises and marks on the soft skin at the end of the day but Taka couldn’t care anymore—he was the one giving pleasure, but he’s already reduced to a hissing and moaning mess, practically rocking his hips up and down on the man’s bare erection.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Takahiro,” Toru-san warned him and he nodded, he knows that. He can finish this—can give the man the completion he oh-so deserves—so before bile could rise from his throat, before shame and regret fill his mind and dampened his enthusiasm, Takahiro is already lifting himself up non his knees, fingers wrapped around Toru-san’s length as he guided it into himself a he lowered his hips.

The yakuza looked like he’s about to protest for a moment—he hadn’t taken Takahiro dry and unprepared before, not even on the night of their first meeting—but Takahiro has been fucked so much on the last time he could remember, and he hopes that the pain would be minimal—or maybe it could be worse but he’ll have to gobble them up as his punishment—

_Hurts—_

“A—ah—!”

Takahiro tilted his back into a throaty moan as he slowly—painfully slowly—took the now rock hard cock into his body. It burns—burns like motherfucking hell as he allowed gravity to impaled himself onto that thick, throbbing length—

_It hurts—it hurts so fucking much—_

“Still tight,” Toru-san hissed, making Taka looked down on him with his blurry vision. The yakuza’s head was tipped up, looking at him with a dark, unreadable look on his face, “And mine—all mine—,”

 _Yours_ , Takahiro’s mind easily supplied—so quick that he wants to gag at that response— _yours, all yours—_

He started moving his hips, grinding at first, making himself used to the size of the leader before he deemed himself ready—moving up on his knees, until the tip is the only part inside of him before he plunged down—taking it all in and deep and god if it didn’t made Taka see _the fucking stars and the goddamned universe_ —his vision was dotted with whites, pain and pleasure mingling , making him dizzy and heady—all things thrown out of his fucking system as he practically bounce on the man’s lap, the lewd noises of his ass smacking on the man’s strong thighs filling room.

_Happy, he groaned, gotta make him happy—n-not mad—_

His head lolled back when the man meets up his desperate hips, thrusting up and hitting the traitorous bundle of nerves inside him, a scream tearing out of his lips as he instantly came— _god, it was too much_ —the sensations were too much for him to handle.

“Not yet,” the yakuza growled into him as he continued moving Taka, making him bounce on his cock a few more times—, “Not yet, Takahiro.”

Taka whimpered in pain, he was exhausted yes, but his master is still unsated—so with his jelly-like kneels, he tried—desperately tried to fuck himself over that girth— _slowly, painfully_ —all of his nerves screaming at being over sensitive—until he can feel Toru-san thrust him without abandon, pulling his hips down and down—until a satisfied growl escaped those parted lips, biting onto Taka’s shoulder as he came inside him.

Taka shivered at that familiar sensation of being filled up, warmth flooding his insides as he slumped over, letting the man thrust a few mere as he rode out his orgasm. He was too tired, and all he wants is to curl up in bed, but he can’t—he needs to know if he’s forgiven, needs to know that he could see Hiroki, needs to know that he won’t be left alone here—cold, alone and naked.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, burying his face on the man’s clothed shoulder, “I’m sorry please… _please_ …”

He can still feel the cock lodged inside him, and the man isn’t making any move to shove him away or something. They just…sat there, listening to each other’s ragged breathing, feeling the warmth of their skin and basking on each other’s presence. Taka decided that he likes this—he had always liked these short moments where nothing is happening and when the man is just there, running his fingers through his hair in a calm, soothing manner.

“You’re not going anywhere anymore, Takahiro,” the man finally broke the suffocating silence—filling Taka’s stomach with dread at those words—he looked up at the man, pain etched on his feverish face and he tried to reason out— _that can’t be! How about Hiroki?! How can I see him if I’m gonna be locked in here forever?!_

“But since you’ve made a generous offer this time,” Taka’s eyes fluttered shut when the yakuza’s calloused fingers caressed his flustered cheeks, relishing the warmth and softness of the skin, “I’ll let you see Hiroki, but Tomoya would always be at your side, and there’s no way in hell that you can go near that Takeru, you understand?”

Taka was nodding even before the yakuza could finish his sentence _. Yes, yes, anything—I’ll do anything as long as I can see Hiroki—anything—_

“H-hai,” he nodded, “Yes...thank you…thank you…”

Toru-san sighed before caressing his face and tousling his hair once more.

“What a difficult, naughty kitten you are, Takahiro…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides under my nekos
> 
> P-please tell me what you think of it. Thanks for reading~!


	29. I will be Taking Every Bit of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter~!
> 
> Disclaimer: They're so OOC in this chapter that it's obvious that they would not act like this in real life. OOR is not and will never be mine. Please don't sue me.

Taka limped through the brightly lit hospital. He refused to lean onto Tomoya who’s been walking beside him—a bit closer than he ever wanted. It was just a few hours since he was let out of the dark cell—Toru-san washing and dressing him up—and finally allowing him to go out for a few hours to see his brother. His head is swimming at the bright lights, the number of people around them and everything feels like it’s in fast-forward—Taka being used in the darkness for a few hours.

_God, I was there for just a few hours and it felt like forever—_

If Toru-san wasn’t kind enough to let him out then…then…

Taka averted his gaze, lowering them on the polished floor to avoid the looks they’re getting. He had felt this before—like there’s s a shit-ton of eyes looking at him—judging him, knowing what Toru-san had done to him—seeing how dirty he is, how ruined, how corrupted— _how utterly broken he was._

 _Just a bit more_ …he bit his lip, his hips straining, and his legs threatening to wobble beneath his weight… _just a bit more and I can see Hiroki…_

“We’re here, Taka-chan,” Tomoya _announced. Taka looked to his side where Tomoya is holding onto a door. He swallowed in nervousness—why are you even getting nervous? It’s just your brother—he’s safe, he’s not dangerous as those peopl_ e—before he nodded, the yakuza sliding the door open.

He took a step and just…just the sight of his little brother sitting on the bed, with the doctors and nurses all around him. Hiroki was talking to them, but his eyes visibly lit up, his shoulders releasing from the slump he was wearing when he caught sight of his Niichan standing at the door.

“Nii-chan!”

Everyone looked at him, then to Tomoya before the people in white excuses themselves out of the room. Tomoya probably signaled something but he doesn’t care anymore, because he’s already poon his fee, dashing towards the bed and enveloping his baby brother in a tight, tight hug!

“I’m sorry!” he sobbed out, hugging Hiroki with all of his might, the younger was baffled for a moment before he returned the tight embrace, “I’m sorry that I almost didn’t make it—I’m sorry—I’m really sorry—I thought—,”

_I thought I won’t see you again._

_I thought I won’t be able to get out of that room._

_I thought that I’ll die—_

_I thought that you’ll die!_

His brother sniffled, before reaching out to ruffle his hair, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, but there’s smile—there’s this huge, thankful smile plastered on his lips and all those negative instantly left his mind. He was here, and that’s what’s important. He’s here and Hiroki is here and is about to get his life back—and for a moment, at that warm embrace, Taka thought that everything is fine.

Everything would be _fine._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“These are the names of their living relatives,” Toru said, handing his childhood friend a crumpled paper that his men gave him earlier. They were the names of the relatives of those who abducted Taka. No one dares to touch what was his, no matter if Takeru ordered it. Those people should’ve known better not to cross him, not to even utter his name, because there would be consequences, and there would be blood to shed.

_Lots and lots of blood._

They’ve captured some of those men alive, the others instantly killed in Takeru’s hideout yesterday. He would exalt punishment, record it and send it to the other yakuza families so that they would know that he’s not the strongest just in name. He acts on it, like the ever-hungry dragon on his skin—he will devour _everything and everyone_ in his path—and it won’t be a pretty scene.

Ryota glanced at the papers, his childhood friend wincing as he saw names of girls and mothers and grandmothers. They have some code about hurting women, but this is war—the moment Takeru landed his eyes on Mori-chan, it was already a war between the families.

“This is…” he gulped, fishing out a lighter when Toru perched an unlit cigarette between his lips. He lighted it, like the ever loyal man he is, before continuing his sentence, “…this is quite a _lot,_ Aniki.”

“It’s not,” he said, taking a long drag before letting out the smoke, his system instantly calming down as the nicotine hit his lungs. The night would be a cold one, but it would be warm—once he’s at home, with Takahiro waiting on the bed—pliant and submissive. He doesn’t really want to let the boy off his sight, but he needs it—he would definitely die of agony if he’s deprived of a chance to meet his brother ebfore his surgery. But this would be the last time, he thought, not really liking the nerves, the worry gnawing at his chest at the thought that Takahiro is out there—at Takeru’s hospital—and is vulnerable to any attempt of abduction.

 _Huh…_ he took another drag before turning to Ryota, “Kill them in front of our prisoners,” he ordered with his ever-stoic face, “And make sure you record the whole thing. Let’s all remind them why they should never dare to cross paths with the Yamashita Clan.”

_…since when did I worry for someone, I wonder…?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Toru-san was already in the house when Takahiro managed to get back. He bid goodbye to his brother, telling him that he would be there before the doctor could inject him with anaesthetisias—even if he’s not sure if the leader would allow him—before kissing him on his forehead. He doesn’t want to let go, and he could feel Hiroki’s hesitance to let him go but he told— _lied—_ to his brother that he needs to work, needs to find more money so they could be living in better conditions after his surgery.

 _Ah, such hopeful words_. It was so sweet, so bright and optimistic that it pained Taka to say one word after word—knowing full well that it might happen, yes, but _not_ for free.

Nothing’s free in this world anyways.

But his brother doesn’t have to know about that. All Hiroki must do is to lay still and have this sheer strength to push through, to hold on tight and to make sure that he would open his eyes after a few days.

No matter what situation or condition Taka might be in that day, he would still smile and cry in happiness because at long last—his brother would be fine, his brother would live a better life, his brother would have a good future.

_With or without Takahiro._

The smile on his face instantly faded at the sight of the leader casually lounging in the living room. His coat was hanging on the back rest, the first few buttons of his white shirt were open and there’s a small glass of liquor on his hand. Taka tilted his head, the man looks so handsome like that and he’s sure that a shit-ton of girls would be begging to have this bastard’s attention and yet—

 _It’s still a mystery, Taka_ thought as he swallowed down, his socked feet moving on their own—he needs to make him constantly happy, makes him satisfied so that he would let him see Hiroki, makes him feel good so that Taka would never have to go back in that hell hole—the soft sound rousing the redhead from his musings and peered up at him in interest. Taka shakily smiled down at the leader, plopping on the empty spot on the couch and clutching the collar of the man’s shirt, he leaned forward and planted gentle kisses on the man’s closed lips. He tasted of alcohol and cigarettes, the heavy scent drowning Taka, his eyes fluttering shut as he coaxed the man to part his lips.

It took a few moments of kissing and a few groping here and there before Toru-san finally responded in his kisses—the man pushing him onto his back, muttering something, _“oh, how submissive you’ve become, Takahiro…”_ before he bites and suck his way along the column of Taka’s neck. He’s not entirely sure on when Tomoya had excused himself out of the unit nor when the leader had pulled off his top—because his mind was so damned focused on _feeling_ —and giving pleasure as much as he can—opening his mouth and letting the redhead plunder it with reckless abandon. His hands were on their way to the man’s belt when it was swatted by a larger one, Taka’s eyes widening in surprise—and fear, because _did I do something wrong? Am I doing something wrong?!_

“Naughty kitten,” Toru-san said as he leaned back, his hand massaging and fondling Taka’s clothed thigh, “You should be resting by now.”

Taka’s whole world seemed to shook at that. “N-no…no fucking…tonight...?”

A deadly smirk made its cruel way on the man’s lips, making Taka gulp in terror— _dumb, stupid, stupid mouth, you should’ve just stayed quiet, you fucking moron!_

“Yes,” the man said in amusement, his eyes softening for a while before they returned the cold, steel-like façade, “No fucking tonight. You need to get back to the room—,”

Taka’s body froze at that, his chest instantly heaving as he struggled to get up, get closer and make his hands and mouth work— _room?! I-I don’t want to get back to that room—_

No, no, no more—

“I-I don’t want,” he choked at the sob that’s threatening to escape past his trembling lips, “Please don’t make me go back to that room…please…please…”

Toru eyed him with interest before he dragged him up, carrying him—bridal style—to god knows where while Taka was reduced to a shaking, quivering mess that’s showering kisses here and there on the man’s face and neck as a desperate attempt to please him, make him change his mind and to not deposit him to that god-forsaken room.

“Stop lapping at me like that, kitten,” Toru-san finally spoke—making Taka look up from the jaw line that he’s kissing. His blurry eyes refused to glance around, in fear that he would be drop on a soft yet cold—cruelly cold—bed in the middle of a pitch-black room. But to his surprise, the leader gently laid him on the bed—the huge bed inside the yakuza’s room—and kneeled before him. Taka’s breath hitched at that sight, his brows knitting in great confusion.

“T-Toru-san…?”

“You’ll be staying here for a while,” the leader said as he removed Taka’s socks from his delicate feet, the calloused hands igniting a pleasurable friction against Taka’s pinkish ankles. He squirmed at the top of the bed, causing the man to chuckle in amusement, “But since you’ve made a lot of shit in that attempt to escape me,” he growled, and for a moment, Taka was gripped with this urge to yank his foot away—

But he couldn’t—not under those dark, intense eyes blazing right through his very bones.

“—I need to make sure that you would stay here for the rest of the night, okay?”

And much to Taka’s horror, Toru-san yanked a heavy leather ankle cuff from under the bed.

_What—_

Now, Taka really, really wants to pull his foot back because matte, matte, why is he restraining my ankle with that—the soft sound of lock getting into place snapped him out of his panicking thoughts. He glanced down, the black restraint was lined with silvers and secured by a tiny lock. It’s attached to a long-ass chain tied on the legs of the heavy bed.

“What—,” he started, turning his ankles to inspect the restraint—he had thought that it would be painful, like the ropes and silk digging onto his skin, but no, it was actually—dare I say it, holy shit I’m really gonna say it—comfortable with the fleece lining inside. This…Taka started to heave as he stared at the man kneeling before him, _this kinky motherfucker—_

“Now, you’ll be safe here…” the man said, bracing himself on his arms on the edge of the bed, planting soft kisses on Taka’s cheeks, “I’ll even let Tomoya to teach you how to use guns, so that if someone would dare to touch you anywhere, you can just shoot them all dead instead of me torturing them,” his eyes widened in horror at that. It sounds like a joke, but the dead-serious look on the yakuza’s face says otherwise. He’s serious. He’ll really teach Taka how to kill—how to murder a person—just for what?

_Just for his twisted sense of possessiveness?_

_But aren’t you already his?_

He inwardly flinched at that thought, _it’s acceptable to defend what was his. You want to make him happy, right?_

Right.

 _Besides, there won’t be anyone else who would want to get a piece of your ass—not after what happened to those men—_ flashes of blood and unmoving bodies on the floor flickered into Taka’s mind— _not after what happened to Satoh-san—_

Tall, proud and ever-so smug Satoh Takeru who had fallen right before Taka’s terrified eyes.

— _so the chances of you killing someone would be low, terribly low, so calm your shits and just nod and agree and give him some kisses and a hand job and you’ll be fine._

Everything would be fine.

Taka enthusiastically nodded, making the pair of thin lips smirked against his flustered cheek in satisfaction—and oh did Taka’s heart flutter in triumph at that small victory. Toru-san leaned away, yanking the chain to show it to Taka.

“Look,” he said, “This is quite long, so going to the toilet won’t be a problem for you. I’ll take it off once you’re going to your brother, alright?”

Taka hesitantly nodded at that, being chained like this is like…the ultimate showcase of the man’s possessiveness about him—what’s next, he’s gonna make me wear a collar bearing his crest or something? —but that doesn’t stop that small spark of happiness from blooming within him.

_He’s gonna let me see Hiroki again…_

“A-alright…” he softly mumbled, “That’s perfectly alright…Toru-san…”

The man smiled at him, “As much as I want you calling me master, I still prefer you calling me by my name,” he then rose up and turned around, “Sleep well, Takahiro. Your lessons would start tomorrow—,”

Taka’s eyes followed the retreating form of the leader—like that? _He’s gonna leave me here, just like that?_ What about…how about…?

“—and your brother needs to see you looking a little less pale tomorrow,” he said and blankly glanced at him over his shoulder, “Sleep.”

Taka automatically nodded, pulling his limbs from the floor and tucking himself under the heavy blankets as he tried—desperately tried to keep the memories of this day out of his mind—

But there was blood.

And all that Taka could see was that red hair, dark eyes and the cruel smirk on the yakuza leader’s face as he strangled Taka with the cold, steel chains.

It was a very haunting night for Takahiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's weird how all those chapters happened in just a day, and how Taka tremendously changed in a matter of hours. Do you think it's shit too? Coz I do gaaaaah
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	30. I'm Feeling Used with No One to Save Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler, filler~ And also a bit of backstory about Tomoya and Ryota~
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

“Focus, Taka-chan, _focus._ ”

Taka wanted to snap at Tomoya who was standing beside him, his hands onto Taka’s, steadying his aim, the gun in his hand so fucking heavy and the sensations upon holding that… _lethal_ weapon is making him dizzy. Add that to the knowledge that his brother is currently being sliced open in an operating table and Taka is so much ready to reach out the fruits and bread rolls that the yakuza had fed him earlier—

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up without the yakuza beside him, but when he got out of the bathroom after freshening up, the man is already sitting on the bed—his clothes looked so good, pressed and pristine and his hair smells strongly of a new shampoo—

 _He had been bathed in blood,_ his mind thought as he padded towards the man, the chains making a rattling sound as he dragged it behind him, _he had killed, that’s why he looked so immaculately clean right now._

—he stood in front of the man, Toru-san looking up at him, a golden key dangling on his fingers, “Time to go out and play, Takahiro,” was the only thing he had spoken before freeing Taka off his shackles.

 

He was then led out to the kitchen, perched on the man’s lap— _seriously, why does he always want me to sit on here—_ and hand fed him with small bits of fruits and slices of bread—the tiny morsels instantly made his traitorous stomach to rumble as if he hadn’t eaten for ages.

Or maybe that’s just his body’s way of telling him to fucking eat or else he’ll die of starvation. And oh did the yakuza looks so fucking _smug_ and _satisfied_ whenever Taka would lean towards his fingers, meet the food halfway and licked the leader’s fingers clean after munching—his eyes meeting the heavily-lidded ones in a silent plea for more—because he’s hungry, and because the man looks subtly happy at feeding him—

_Like a goddamned pet, licking his master’s hand for more food._

What could he do?

He was hungry, his mind thought in resignation, and it’s more important to survive rather than to keep his pride get the better of him. Hah, he doesn’t have any semblance of pride and dignity to begin with, so why bother fighting it—fighting him off?

That would just lead to punishments.

And possible threats to his brother—

His brother—

Taka’s eyes widened in realization—guilt and horror flashing on his face—that his brother is probably waiting for him today before the operation began and _what was Taka doing?_ Straddling the man’s lap, getting his stomach full and almost practically purring at the gentleness he’s being offered at the moment.

And as if sensing Taka’s waves of distress, Toru-san finally deemed it enough—Taka almost stumbling onto the floor as he was moved off the man’s lap. The man washed his hands, dried them before calling Tomoya and giving him instructions about taking Taka to the hospital, just to see Hiroki before he was knocked out with sedatives, and be brought back to the official house for some training about guns.

Taka was dead terrified about the thoughts of holding guns but he couldn’t risk this chance...this last chance to see his brother awake before he goes under the knife, so he agreed—not that he had so much choice right from the start.

Toru-san smirked down at him, planting open-mouthed kisses on his cheeks and jaws before whispering on how he would be back tonight, and how Taka _wouldn’t be able_ to walk in the next few days after he’s done with eliminating rats. Taka shivered, not just because of the promises of a night-long and probably merciless fucking—but also because of the fact that the leader might go home bloody and touch Taka with blood-stained hands—

“T-take,” he suddenly blurted out, the moment the yakuza turned around to wear his coat. Toru-san froze for a moment, as well as Tomoya who was helping his boss to wear the dark coat, “Take care…” he softly mumbled, his mind buzzing on why the fuck he had just said that.

It sounds…

It sounds so _fucking domestic_ that he wants to bang his head onto the nearest hard surface in embarrassment—especially when Toru-san glanced over his shoulder, a smug grin plastered on that thin, sculpted lips.

“I’ll be back,” he said, nodding and pinning him with those dark, intense eyes before he went off.

 _He’ll be back,_ Taka thought as he glared at his socked feet, his fingers curling and uncurling at the twisted feeling of relief spreading throughout his system— _he’ll be back for me…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

And so, Taka was brought to his brother’s room. He had taken a glimpse of the familiar auburn hair somewhere in the corridor—dread churning his insides, as he swallowed hard and tried to ignore the feeling of being observed from afar as he trudged towards the direction of his brother’s room. Tomoya and some other men were trailing behind him, like good bodyguards and he could see some other more mingling with the nurses and patients.

 _Toru-san is a bit of paranoid,_ he sighed and slid the door open, taking in the slumped look of his brother, _nobody would want to touch me anyways…_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hiroki has been scared, that, he can see much as his brother shook into his embrace. But he had assured him that everything would be fine after this operation and that they would come home with a better Hiroki—someone who won’t gasp for breath, someone who won’t feel any chest pain anytime.

Hiroki would be better and they would play songs and music, would cook their favorite foods, would spend more time together.

He was scared too—a part of his brain asking him if this is really worth it, if it’s really gonna be alright in the end, or if he’s just making a huge mistake. What if he’ll lose Hiroki instead of gaining a better future for his brother? —but he needs to be _strong,_ he needs to be _confident_ , he needs to be the _perfect_ brother his perfect little Hiroki needed at the moment.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, tears welling up at the corner of his eyes, as he cradled Hiroki’s cheeks between his hands, “You’ll be fine and Niichan would be here, I would be here when you wake up—,” he tried to smile, his lips quivering as he desperately tries to choke back the sobs threatening to spill as he caught sight of his brother’s glassy eyes, “So wake up for me, okay? Wake up for Niichan, Hiroki…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

And then, with a flurry of lab coats, Taka was ushered out of the room. He had seen Satoh-san padded inside, the man smirking at him—good, he was still alive and looking…alright...because Taka gad thought that the redhead leader would just…kill him off or something. He was whisked away by Tomoya, saying that there’s really nothing he can do while the surgery is going on, and that he needs to at least learn how to use a gun before Hiroki wakes up by the end of the day.

Taka thought that learning how to use guns would be a good distraction but every time he would close his eyes, he could see Hiroki’s face and it makes Tomoya a bit snappy at him—

“We’re not playing here, Taka-chan, mou!” he said as he righted Taka’s form once again, “You can be killed if you’ll just stare off the space like that!”

“But I don’t wanna kill someone!”

“You don’t have to kill them—,” Tomoya said, his eyes silently saying _“leave all the killings to us”,_ before he smiled, “You just have to disable them and run, okay?”

He didn’t nod and just stared at the target far across them. He couldn’t understand the need to educate him on how to hold a gun. There’s a lot of men serving that bastard, men who would kill and be killed for him, so why—

“Why do I even have to learn how to use a gun, Tomoya?” he softly asked, a pang of fear and nervousness hitting his nerves when the green-haired yakuza’s gaze sharpened before it was easily masked by his usual bright smile.

“We just like to be careful,” he said before he cocked his head towards the target once more, “You’re Aniki’s _precious_ person after all…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Taka worried his lower lip as he stared at the elegant-looking clock hanging above the fire place. It’s almost midnight, but the yakuza still hasn’t come back, and despite Tomoya’s presence in the huge, empty house, Taka couldn’t shake off this…heaviness in his chest.

Maybe it’s because there’s still no news about his brother; maybe it’s because his hands were still shaking long after the practice has been done; maybe it’s because the yakuza is still not home—

He froze at that thought, since _when did this house became home?_

 _It’s not good,_ he thought, pulling his knees closer to his chest, being here is not good for his mind, but there’s no escape—even if he’s yearning to be at the hospital, he can’t leave.

He could _never_ leave.

“Don’t worry about Aniki, Taka-chan,” Tomoya happily looked up from the game he’s playing. Taka envies him, the way he could smile brightly like that, so careless, so free, despite being tied to the most fearful man Taka had ever met in his entire life, “He’s with Ryota so he’ll come home safe.”

He eyed the yakuza for a moment, his head having a hard time on understanding how these people even met their leader. They look…they look like normal men, laugh like normal persons, but behind those seemingly careless masks, they were killers—henchmen of that redhead bastard.

“How…” he gulped, his eyes flickering at the door in fear that Toru-san would just barge into the room and catch him talking to Tomoya about their past, “…how did you became a yakuza, Tomoya?”

“Hmmm?” the green-haired man tilted his head at him, reminding Taka of the seaweeds in the market, “There’s really no deep and heart-wrenching story about me, Taka-chan. I was born in a family that serves the Yamashita Clan for ages, and the moment I’ve been born into this world, I was already told to follow whatever the _shateigashira_ wishes.”

“Second…?”

Tomoya winced at that, his shoulder slumping as he eyed the door—with the same fear that Taka was sporting earlier—, “Oh right,” he said, putting his phone down, “You didn’t know, right? That Aniki had an older brother?”

Taka’s brows furrowed at that, having a faint memory of Tomoya lashing out at him when he dared to call himself a whore—

_“Not even to his brother whom he killed—!”_

—but he was too busy feeling bad and shits that he failed to comprehend that fact. Huh, that’s weird. Having friends, subordinates is one thing, but to actually think the leader has some relatives at one point is—

“Wait,” his jaws hung wide open as he finally realized what the fuck the yakuza had said before, “H-he…he killed his own brother…?”

Tomoya flinched and looked like he’s read to wither away on his spot. He looks so uncomfortable and if Taka was just kind enough, he would let the poor guy off— _or else, Toru-san might cut off his tongue_ —but he was curious, and a curious Taka is a persistent Taka.

“Tell me, Tomoya.”

The yakuza looked up at hi in surprise at the cold tone he had just used—well, fuck, Taka was shocked too! Since when did he thought that it’s gonna be nice to talk to the man like that?! _I’m not their boss for god’s sake!_

“ _Maa_ , he killed him…after the former _oyabun_ —their father—was assassinated,” Tomoya said, almost whispered, ignoring the wide-eyed look Taka was sending him, “it’s just a normal blood feud to know who will be the next leader, but his brother was older and has a lot of supporters…Aniki just gained the upper hand by asking some favors from people—,”

And for one wicked second, Satoh-san’s face flashed right through Taka’s mind. The two obviously has a long years of love-hate kind of friendship—Taka knows that despite wanting to _slash each other’s throat_ every time they would meet, there’s something else going on with the two.

What if…

“—that really doesn’t matter now,” Tomoya shrugged, “I was one of Aniki’s follower right from the start, so I’ve been spared when he purged the clan from his brother’s supporters. It was really…bloody, you know?”

Taka gulped. So, basically, Toru-san emerged as the leader, from the blood of his own kinsmen? He even killed his own flesh and blood for what? For some…stupid power over hundreds of people?

 _Hah_ , a part of his mind scoffed, _if it wasn’t for that power you loathed so much, you’ll still be playing in the dark clubs right now, thinking hard and long on how you would buy Hiroki’s medicine. Don’t be a hypocrite, Takahiro._

He inwardly cringed at that. He’s right, there’s…there’s something good that came out of that power that the yakuza wielded.

“And it’s happening all over again,” Tomoya sadly muttered, “Because of Satoh-san’s influence, there has been a lot of uprising from the lower families, and the other clans. It’s like…like the entire underground world is now against the Clan—,”

“Is that why he’s getting busy these days…?”

_Is that why he’s killing so much these days…?_

“—but we would win,” Tomoya grinned at him, the brightness of that smile alone makes his stomach churn in disgust and fear, “The Yamashita Clan _would always win_ and would emerge at the top of this war!”

“But you said…that it’s bloody,” he said, “How about your people who died in every war you wage, Tomoya? Were you forcing them? What about their families?”

“Oh, Taka-chan,” the seaweed head sadly shook his head in an exasperated manner, “There’s no such thing as being forced in the world of the yakuza. They’re—we’re—here because we’re loyal to the Boss, and not because he threatens us or something. Being in the family requires the utmost trust and obedience—whatever the leader wants, everyone would do it—no questions asked—,”

“What if they died following your leader’s words,” Taka gritted his teeth, these people seem to not understand the value of lives—as long as they are a mean to the ends—they would never hesitate to sacrifice one, two, five or even dozens of lives of men—fathers, brothers, and sons—, “What can they even get from following your mighty leader, Tomoya?”

“ _Everything_.”

Taka’s breath hitched at that answer. The man didn’t even pause to think of his response, he just…he just said it like that, like it’s true, like it’s not a fabricated lie to make Taka think that there’s something good in the system these men are living.

“E-everything…?”

Tomoya nodded, “The family takes care of everything—the children were sent to the _best_ schools, the wives would never have to work for the meals they’re cooking, they all live in _comfort_ under Aniki’s protection—,”

And for a moment, Tomoya glanced at his face—the gesture seems to be a mocking one to Taka—as if he’s saying—

_“Aren’t you the same, Taka-chan? Aren’t’ you living in comfort under Aniki’s protection?”_

—but the words didn’t come out of the yakuza’s mouth, instead he just sighed and grabbed his phone once more, “It’s how we live, Taka-chan. And I’m really sorry that you got dragged into this….”

_But you’re not regretting it…_

Taka averted his gaze. Toru-san is still not home. And he hates how Tomoya makes it sounds so _simple—_ that the very complicated system of the yakuza world is just a mere employee-employer type of thing—those people would work for the leader in exchange of comfort.

_How about the killings?_

_Is that a part of the bargain, too?_

The food they’re feeding their families, the money paid for the education of their children—was it alright if they got it from killing or harming one person…?

_Was it really worth it?_

“How about Ryota?” he finally decided to break the silence after a long while. Tomoya, despite being bouncy and energetic in the outside world, seems to be fine not talking at all, but Taka—after what happened inside that cursed room, couldn’t stand a long span of silence and darkness anymore. “How did he get into…into your family…?”

That.

That made Tomoya finally grinned back at him, “Oh, oh, he was from another clan, actually! He was so young when he was recruited, even as far when Aniki’s brother is still alive!”

Taka blinked. So Ryota wasn’t born into the clan? Huh, and he thought that it would be hard for the outsiders to fit into their fucked up family considering the great trust they’re requiring.

“Man, I can still remember Ryota,” Tomoya sighed dreamily, like an older brother who’s reminiscing the childhood antics of his ototou, “He was so tiny back then, wielding his knife and trying to _stab_ Aniki in his sleep—,”

Taka’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at that sudden turn of events—

“WHAT—,”

“It’s true! Ryota was accepted into the clan as the young master’s play mate, or minion or whatever you want to call it, but he’s actually found out to be an assassin to kill Aniki—,”

“He actually tried to kill Toru-san?!”

“Hai!” Taka wants to smack the yakuza for enthusiastically bobbin his head up and down—you’re not supposed to feel proud and happy when your beloved leader almost got killed by your friend! —, “Aniki was stronger, tho so he out won Ryota, and he was really gracious back then—I mean, Ryota has been his only friend, aside from me, that never cowered in front of him so he was kinda disappointed that Ryota has to go—,”

“Go to what—,”

“He was sentenced to die,” Tomoya smiled, “Coz that’s what you get for trying to eliminate one of the members of the ruling family BUUUUT Aniki came to the rescue and did some tricks and boom! Ryota was saved!”

Taka…Taka wanted to shook his head at that incredulous story. It’s like something straight from a fucking drama! To think that Toru-san—the man who bombed an entire restaurant just to threaten him—would actually go that far to save someone who actually planned to kill him was so—

Crazy.

These people are _crazy._

“So he…” Taka tried, “So Toru-san saved him and he decided to just follow your leader because of that…?”

“He’s still not our leader back then, Taka-chan,” Tomoya corrected, “But yeah, _blood debts_ are really serious in our world, ne? it’s the deepest debt you could get, and it usually led to fierce loyalty…Aniki spared Ryota’s life, and so Ryota would have to live the life for the man who saved it, it’s just as simple as that.”

Taka glanced at the fire place once more, the cackling of fire getting louder in his ears as his mind drifted to the operation room where his brother is still probably in. Hiroki would live, because Toru-san saved his life by sponsoring for his medical and financial needs—so, does that means that his brother would have to serve the bastard too?

 _Never,_ his mind protectively hissed, _I would never that man lay his dirty, blood-stained hands to my brother. Never!_

“But your case is different, Taka-chan,” Tomoya smiled in understanding, “Instead of your brother, you will have to live for Aniki, and I think that’s just fair, ne?”

Taka couldn’t formulate a proper response to that. He gulped and glanced away in shame and defeat, praying that his brother is alright.

Crazy.

These monsters were _indeed_ crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~!


	31. Everything You Do is Killing Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reaching the conclusion hohohoho
> 
> I was writing HTMHF backwards last week, you know? Coz I thought, if I continue writing on the usual order, I won't be able to finish it. So I started writing the epilogue, the last chapter and so on, until the next chapter for this. This is the last one I've written on the usual order so you'll see a shit ton of shits on the next chapter coz they're obviously written in different times. But anyways. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

“The _Aizukotetsu-kai_ is clearly supporting Satoh-sama’s works, Boss,” Ryota said as they trudged through the empty halls of the main house. It’s been a busy day, with Toru either sitting in the office and sparing his break killing some shits that dared to cross their paths. He doesn’t know why people would actually side with the Satoh-gumi when they already know what would happen to their own organization if Toru took hold of them.

“Those shits from Kyoto needs to be fucking eradicated,” Toru growled, his coat billowing behind him. He was tired, but those idiots keep on coming—and if it wasn’t just for Takahiro’s brother—who was doing well, according to the reports—he might’ve decapitated his goddamned childhood friend yesterday— _right there and then._

“The police won’t interfere tho,” Ryota said, “But I recommend that we should stop Satoh-sama for whatever the fuck he’s planning to do. He’s stirring conflict in the lower clans and that’s not good…” his friend gave him a side-long glance, “…and there’s also Mori-chan’s safety, Satoh-sama would definitely try claiming him if he’s given a chance—,”

“That _won’t_ happen,” Toru immediately said, stopping in the archway towards the living room. Tomoya was sitting near the fire place, the green-haired man looked up from his game, alert and attentive as he instantly rose to greet his leader.

“Welcome back, Aniki,” he greeted as he padded towards them. Toru merely nodded to him, his eyes flicking over the sleeping form of Takahiro. The boy was splayed on the long couch, a thick blanket covering half of his body, his head pillowed on his arm. “He insisted on sleeping here, says something about…” the cheerful man bitterly smiled, “not wanting to be alone in the dark or something…”

_Good._

Toru smirked as he slowly sauntered towards the couch. Takahiro looks so peaceful, looks so young sleeping like a baby, while Toru’s mind keep replaying the words Ryota had just said a few seconds ago.

“Takeru won’t have him,” he lowly said, reaching out to touch the sleeping face, Taka instantly nuzzling at his warm, calloused hand. He let a small, fond smile— _that he wasn’t aware he’s capable of doing—_ slip on his face at that. Takahiro looks so damn comfortable, and Toru can already feel his arousal awakening just by the sight of the man. His thumb caressed the soft chin, touching the supple lower lip, as his mind run wilds with all the things that Takahiro could do with this perfect, _perfect_ mouth. “If anything happens to me—,” he ignored the sharp gasp from his two most loyal men, their disagreement over his statement was evident on the look that crossed ton their faces, “—you two should make sure that he’ll be fine. Protect him at all cost.”

“But Aniki—,”

“You will do it,” he hissed, as he pulled Takahiro’s body close, cradled him for a moment before he rose, carrying the sleepy man in his arms, “Swear it.”

The two exchanged confused, conflicted looks before they finally nodded, “We swear it on the clan’s name, Aniki…we’ll make sure that he’ll be safe…”

“Good,” he smirked and padded towards the direction of his—of their room—, “But anyways, no one can defeat us, so that might be just a huge redundancy.”

That obviously cheered up the two who opened the door for him, bowed and excused themselves for the night. Toru sighed, looking down at the singer who’s slowly stirring on his arms. Glassy almond-shaped ayes slowly fluttered open, looking up at him in confusion, recognition and final, resignation as Takahiro offered a small, sleepy smile up at him.

“Toru-san…?”

He nodded, and simply deposited the man on the bed, Takahiro immediately snuggling at the thick comforter, rubbing his cheeks onto the sheets before he glanced at him once more, “you’re finally back…”

“I am,” Toru said as he kneeled over the bed, his fingers skillfully untying the knot of his neck tie, a grin forming on his lips as Takahiro’s eyes widened in realization, “And I’m here to fulfill my promise earlier…”

 

* * *

 

 

The days passed by in a blur of activities. Taka has been so busy going back to forth to the hospital back to the main house and to the yakuza’s bedroom. Hiroki is doing fine, the other doctors said—because Satoh-san wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near him. Taka was ecstatic to know that his brother would be waking up tomorrow, but at the same time he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad would happen, that a pair of slitted eyes is always following his every move, watching his every action from the shadows.

That’s why he’s giving his best during the practices on how to use the gun. Now that Hiroki would be waking up, he needs to be prepared, he needs to bae bale to protect his little brother as Toru-san continues on waging his game of wars with the other clans.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

But all those activities blurred into nothingness that night, as Toru-san ever so slowly, ever so gently thrust into him—

He didn’t even asked Taka to give him a head, stopping the smaller fingers as they tried to fumble the buckles of his belt the moment the man sat on the huge bed. He was confused, horror-stricken for a moment at the man’s refusal for his nightly services, but when Toru-san merely pushed him on his back and started peppering his face and neck and shoulders with soft, almost chaste kisses, Taka felt like he’s gonna lose his _sanity._

_This is not real—it can’t be happening—_

He moaned as the man planted wet, open-mouthed kisses on his shoulder blades, his legs instantly wrapping at the man’s hips as the yakuza slowly—painfully slowly thrust into him—

_Why…why are you doing this to me…?_

_This shouldn’t be happening!_ Toru-san _was supposed_ to pound into him with reckless abandon, hitting and abusing his prostrate like there’s no tomorrow, filling him to the brim and flipping him onto his stomach, driving into him once more even if he just came inside Takahiro—

Toru-san _was supposed_ to be biting onto his skin, suckling harshly until the skin almost break—leaving blotches of reds and purples on his wake.

Toru-san _was supposed_ to be gripping his supple thighs with a bruising hold, his fingers digging onto Taka’s flesh, his fingers leaving their prints on his thin wrists.

Toru-san _was supposed_ to be grabbing him by his curly hair as his thrusts go erratic and mindless, Taka’s head arching back, exposing his neck as the yakuza chomped down on it, his hips stuttering as he filled Takahiro with his come—leaving Taka a panting, bruised mess not—

_Not like this—_

Taka whimpered as the man slowly moved in and out, every fiber of his being wanting nothing but to pull him close, and tell him to fuck him like he means it, fuck like he had been doing all this time—ruthless, uncaring, merciless— _fuck and use him like the whore he is because this_ \---this—

“Are you enjoying yourself, Takahiro…?”

He groaned as the man kissed his way down to Taka’s throat, his tongue lapping at his collar bone before he planted teasing kisses on his chest—the sensations were too much, the slow, rhythmic movement inside him was too much—

_No, no, he was not enjoying himself_ —he’s getting scared—because he couldn’t understand this—this gentle side of the yakuza. He was so used on the rough fucking—screaming and crying and sobbing filling the room—and not…not this kind of—

“Fuck…” he groaned out as the man latched his mouth on a nipple, Taka’s body arching off the mattress as the jolt of unfamiliar pleasure zapped through his spine, “Fuck me—,”

Toru-san chuckled against his sensitive nub, playing it with his teeth before he responded, “Oh, but I’m _already_ fucking you, Takahiro…” and to emphasize his point, the yakuza snapped his hips a bit harder, the hot, thick girth plunging deeper within him.

“No, no,” Takahiro sobbed, shaking his head and spraying salty tears on the white sheet beneath him, “More…more…harder…fuck me harder…”  
Taka can feel the man grinned triumphantly at him as he let go of his wrists, Taka’s arms instantly rising to grabbed the man’s shoulder and pulled him down—kissing him senseless, his tongue aggressively prying the smirking thin lips open and plundering the man’s mouth as his hips rolled up, meeting the man’s thrusts in a frantic attempt to take it all in, to spite him, to rouse the animalistic side of the yakuza because—

_Because—_

_This isn’t merely fucking_ _anymore_ and Taka doesn’t want it, he decided as he looked up at the heavily lidded eyes gazing down at him—sobs choking him as he something else in those usually steel cold eyes—there was _warmth,_ there was _fondness_ , there was—there was—

Taka cried out as the man hastened his speed, his head arching back, teary eyes gazing at the painting hanging above the headboard the bed—

Suddenly it wasn’t just mere fucking anymore as Toru-san—the very rough, very sadistic yakuza—seemingly _made love_ to him that night, making Taka confused, scared, and broken to the point of no return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a very sexy scene but gaaah I probably had used up all of my porn-writing skills in the past few days so yeah gaaaahhh
> 
>  DO YOU THINK IT'S LOVE THAT TORU IS FEELING FOR TAKA? Yes or No? Explain your answer. (ooooh this reminds me so much of essay type of exams in college hohohoho)
> 
> How do you feel about this chapter?? Thanks for reading~!


	32. What I am Doing is What You're Thinking Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will turn dark noooow. And deat--oops, spolier (BUT I'M ALREADY SPOILING YOU MONTHS AGO GAAAAAH)
> 
> Disclaimer: This is all but a product of my imagination and I've had no wish nor intent to make this into reality. Please don't sue me.

Taka was left all alone in the bedroom. The leader was _long_ gone, and the warmth on his side of that huge bed is already fading away but Taka could still feel his body _thrumming_ with anxiousness and inexplicable uneasiness at the man's actions un the duration of their... _coupling_. It wasn't _just_ fucking anymore...Toru-san has _never been gentle_ , never been so _considerate_ and _caring_ like that—he was so used on crying and screaming and shaking his head in denial, even if his body is yearning for the completion only the man could give every damn time, that he was left shocked and speechless and actually begging for the redhead to fuck him senseless because it's strange.

He's acting strange and Taka doesn't like that.

His mind is tired, and trying to figure out what was going on behind that cool, carefully-placed mask on the man's face so he resorted to begging— _pleadin_ g—for the man to fuck him fast and hard and rough, leave bruises onto his skin, and mental wounds that even time could no longer heal because he deserves it.

Because it was _familiar._

The pain.

The bites and nips.

The ruthless thrusting, in and out of his body—his insides getting _torn_ and _sore_ every aftermath of their raw, animalistic fucking. He was used to that, and Toru-san acting like a... like a _gentle lover_ makes Taka's heart instantly gripped with fear.

He's not supposed to be gentle.

He's not supposed to be looking down at Taka like that.

He's not supposed to be...to be slowly _making love_ with him...

He's not...not...

Taka groaned as another surge of headache assaulted his senses. Hiro would be waking up today, so he might as well get up and make himself look a bit more...presentable and not looking like he's been attacked with an angry jungle cat.

He slowly rose on a sitting position, the lack of the usual sting of pain in his lower back baffled him for a moment. He glanced at the pool of chains at the edge of the bed, and stared at it. There's this...this itch to just shackle his ankle once more, have that familiar sensation of the soft leather wrapped around his skin, reminding him of his place, of his role, of his life—but Toru-san said that he won't be needing that anymore.

That Taka won't be leaving his side anymore when he comes back.

And that statement alone makes him feel sick to his stomach. _What the fuck...what the fuck is that man's planning now?!_ He heaved for a while before he stood up and went on cleaning up himself, but his mind was still lingering on the bed, on the events of last night, and on the possible meanings of the man's words echoing into his ears.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Toru feels like he's walking on a carpet of clouds as he strode through the empty corridors of the hospital. Takahiro, his _sweet little Takahiro_ , would be damn his after this. And no one would be able to take him away from the leader, because after all, _what's there to live for_ , if his little brother would be dead?

He smirked at that thought.

He has planned it, even before Takeru abducted his kitten and tried to persuade him to betray him. He would make Takahiro think that Toru would save his brother, make him think that everything would be alright, and when the boy has already succumbed to his desires and authority, when the boy has surrendered everything to him, when Taka has trusted him enough with his and his brother's life, he would _shatter_ him—break him into fucking pieces by killing Hiroki in his sleep.

_Ah,_ he thought, _that would be a spectacle to see._ He wants to see Takahiro kneeling before him, eyes puffy and swollen due to crying and he won't try to escaped and deny him anymore, because there's nothing else— _no one else_ —to live for.

And that would be his ultimate victory—and a pliant, obedient, and broken _Takahiro would be his prize._

But before that, he needs to kill the kid first. Then he'll blame that Takeru and kill him too and everything would be fine. The mafia wars would end and Toru would emerge as victorious as ever. Simple as that.

But when he slides the door open, the gun felt a bit heavier on the pocket of his coat, when he saw a familiar figure looming on the bed side. The room was dead silent, except for the loud, frantic beeps of the machines keeping the kid alive in the past few days. He was a strong one, and there's no doubt that he'll survive but he had become essential to Toru's plan.

_Another casualty of fate._

Huh...

But it seems that fate has another plan, something to fuck up his carefully laid out schemes, in the form of Takeru Satoh. The yakuza was donning his white robes, and didn't even flinched in surprise when Toru stepped inside the sterile room.

The man didn't acknowledge his presence as he just stands there, his back facing Toru. There's something wrong, there's this odd sense of foreboding quickly seeping into Toru's mind, especially when the beeps went louder and louder, the machines screeching— _high pitched and deafening_ —before it went still, plunging the room in a deadly silence.

It was eerie, how the once noisy room was reduced to an empty shell, the machines stopped whirring, and at that moment, the realization dawned on him.

Oh.

"Hah," he started, his lips splitting into a wide grin as he chuckled in deep fascination and amazement, "You _actually_ did it—," he laughed and laughed, like a mad man as he realized what the doctor just did. _Fucking perfect!_ Takeru killing the kid with his own hands just made it breaking Takahiro easier! He doesn't have to think of petty ideas on how he would put the blame to the surgeon, all he needs to do is to tell Takahiro and everything would set out in motion without Toru pulling some strings—

"You actually killed him."

Takeru sharply turned to glance at him, and Toru caught a glimpse of the limp hand falling at the edge of the bed. _Oh, Takahiro would explode into fucking pieces_ at the sight of his poor, _poor_ brother laid out—cold and dead like that.

"Great minds think alike, Toru," he simply said as he swiftly slid his gloves off his hands, his face is that of a perfect calm, and Toru knows better than to trust the foxes. They're known for being full of mischief for a reason. "He would hate you and blame you for being a manipulative piece of shit and he'll try to kill you even without me giving him hints and a bit of push."

Wow, that _exactly_ sounds like his plan, huh.

But really, he took a swift glance at the unmoving body behind the yakuza, that kid sure has some bad luck getting involved with this fight. His life—and death—has already been decided, and he'll die, either in Toru or Takeru's hands without any change of escape.

All for Takahiro's loyalty and affection.

He couldn't find any hint of sympathy for the now-dead boy, not an ounce of pity—he’s about to do the same after all but he must admit that the boy had it rough. So rough that Takahiro’s more-than eager to give up everything for him—and yet, look where he is now.

Dead.

“You just made my job a bit easier,” Toru nodded as he calmly fished out his gun from the pockets of his coat. It’s been so long since they’ve had a real duel--the last time with him kicking Takeru’s ass was not included—and this time, he wants to end things, wants to pummel this shit onto the ground and eradicate his entire clan just because he couldn’t stand the thought that one day, Takahiro might change his mind—that one day, Takahiro might believe Takeru more than him—he subtly glanced at the location of the hidden camera in the room and pointed his silenced gun to his childhood rival, “But thanks, anyway. Have a nice ride to wherever the fuck you’re going, Satoh Takeru.”

And then, he _fired_.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Taka  _shouldn’t have gone_  to the man’s study room. He should’ve stayed in his room, fiddling with the chains and wondering on what time would the man go home and take him to Hiroki. He doesn’t want to bother Toru-san, now that everything’s being hectic in the underground world, so he was planning to just stayed in there, occasionally glancing at the fixed glass windows and sighing.

But Toru-san asked him to bring the keys to his restraint to his study room for safe-keeping, no matter what happens. And Takahiro—after being locked into a dark, endless room and chained down on the bed—was nothing but a fearful, obedient little shit. So he complied. Tomoya waved at him when he hesitantly made his way towards the man’s room, not really bothered with him loitering around.

This is the man’s official house and yet, they’re allowing him to roam freely.

Like he actually has some sense of  _freedom_ , even if he’s practically caged inside these four walls, falling under the protection of everybody else.

But anyways, he had never been into the man’s study room—he’s kinda expecting it to be a place filled with guns and torturing equipment, scary heads of animals hanging above the fir place and some fur of the tiger coating the backrest of the long couch—so imagine his surprise when Taka entered the room, cautiously and carefully—because he doesn’t want to have more debts by accidentally breaking expensive stuffs—peered into the interiors.

It was…

It was like any other study room, seriously, and the only thing that’s probably different is the stylish and obviously expensive pieces of furniture arranged in a very neat manner. There’s a lot of books, scrolls and folders on one side, there’s no window—the bastard’s probably paranoid that someone would shoot him or something—along the wall, but there’s this…this huge part of the room where almost a dozens of television screens were perched on.

Curiosity piqued, Taka slowly padded towards the wall of TV’s—no,  _monitors_ —showing feeds from surveillance camera. What the—does the man has a sick fascination on watching other people from these monitors?! Taka’s brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced at each monitor, one by one, noticing how familiar the places looked to him. One was in the bastard’s previous condominium unit, the other one is the dark room where Taka was locked before and there’s also a live feed of the leader’s own room where Taka has been staying all these time.

They are all empty, and Taka knows that the redhead would know that he’s stayed far too long in his study room if he would keep on staring at those empty room—except for one—

The other rooms were empty, the feed was stagnant, except for one that suddenly aught Taka’s attention. There’s a person in there, standing at the bedside—of the  _frighteningly_  familiar bed side—of a sleeping person. Taka stared at the scene, the grains making his eyes hurt—

_I’ve seen that before_ …he thought as he focused on the feed, watching as the man raised a hand and swatted some cables from the sleeping person’s face…

_I’ve been there before—_

The person on the bed suddenly lurched up, gasping, looking pained, but weak—and that, in that horrible moment, Taka realized—

_That’s why it’s familiar— ‘_

That’s why there’s this sense of de javu because that’s—

_That’s—_

The sleeping person continued to struggle, but the other man just stared at him, stared and did nothing, watching as the person grow limp in a matter of seconds—

“Hi—,” Taka gasped for air, the keys dropping on the cold floor as he staggered backwards, hitting a vase, the loud crash was left unheard in his ears, as his mind cruelly replayed those scenes—the person gasping for breath—Hiroki,  _his baby brother, his poor, poor baby brother gasping for breath—_

“No, no, no—!” he screamed, lurching forward to look at the monitor, his heart pounding madly against his chest—he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t feel anything aside from this pain—this raw, merciless pain slicing right through his heart, tearing it into bloody pieces, until there’s nothing left—

There would be nothing left anymore—

_Hiroki—_

His  _precious_  Hiroki—

He whined, pathetic and like a wounded animal as he scratched at the monitor, watching as the person laid— _finally_ —motionless. He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he might be just sleeping, not dead—never dead—

“Taka-chan—,”

_He’s supposed to wake up today._

He’s supposed to open his eyes today, he’s supposed to be with me today— _I was supposed to be there—by his side, defending him, protecting him—I was—_

Taka sunk on his knees, his limbs turning into jellies as the realization that he had failed being the good brother he had always wanted to be—realization that Toru-san had failed on protecting him and his brother—realization that Hiroki might—Hiroki might—never come back to him—“Ah—Hiroki— _Hiroki—_!”

_You can’t—you can’t leave me—you can’t—_

Taka furiously shaking his head, spraying salty tears everywhere as he tried to reach forwards, but it was just a monitor, a live feed, it wasn’t real, he needs to see the real Hiroki, needs to see his brother alive and breathing needs to see him—

_Coz Toru-san promised—_

He promised that he would save him— _that he would save my brother and yet—and yet—!_

And as if summoned, the said man appeared in the feed, talking to the person who had killed his brother—to…to…

“Satoh-san?”

Taka’s head snapped towards the source of that voice, and with a blurry vision, eh could see Tomoya sitting beside him on the floor, his eyes incredibly white as he, too, stared at the footage on the screen.

“S-satoh-san…?” Taka whispered, pained and betrayed, as his brows knitted in confusion, eyes producing more tears, spilling relentlessly from the puffy rims, “Satoh-san?!”

Tomoya jumped on his spot as Taka screeched, his mind racing a mile a second at that. He glanced back at the monitor, his eyes trying their damned best on figuring out the figure of that person—and when Toru-san aimed his gun, that’s when the man moved, displaying his long locks cascading on his back—

Fucking—

Taka’s entire frame shook with…with this immeasurable fury— _how dare you—o-of all people—_

_Y-you told me you can do it—_

_You did it—you already succeeded on the surgery so how come,_ Taka burst into another sobbing fits, his lungs screaming for air as his frame shook with the desire-with the foreign, frightening desire to wrap his nimble fingers around the man’s neck and pressed and strangle him—

Death—

He needs to  _die_ —

Fucking—

_Hiroki, my baby brother is—is—_

Taka break down once more, and if it wasn’t for Tomoya holding him up, he would probably just collapse on the floor, curl up and die—he wants to die—how—

How would he even live like this?! He can’t oh god, he can’t—he did everything for him, got himself involved with dangerous people, offered himself and agreed to be someone else’ property just for Hiroki—

He has done unspeakable things, horrifying things that Takahiro won’t even dream of doing—for Hiroki—he had  _learned_  to live the hard life, learned to accept his situation because after all, he allows himself to be used, over and over again, pleasure Toru-san even if it’s sickening, just for Hiroki.

Always for Hiroki—his life, his love, his body— _everything was for Hiroki_ —his brother who would prepare good meals, who would sing songs and play the guitars with him, who would thread his fingers through Taka’s messy locks when he’s tired, Hiroki who would always welcome him a with a warm smile, with a tight hug and the happiest  _“Nii-chan!”_  he had ever heard in his entire life—

Hiroki who’s now gone.

Gone.

Gone!

_Dead!_

He heaved once more. He wants to hurl everything out, wants to scratch his skin until he bleeds, until the skin would fall off, until he would see his bones because he deserves so much punishment—he was right, I should’ve listened to him, he was doubting, if Taka had listened to Hiroki before the operation—

_“I’m scared nii-chan—,”_

_“Are we really gonna do it—,”_

If he didn’t just trust those person, if he just didn’t believed in those persons then Hiroki— _Hiroki, oh god—_

_We should all die—_

Taka caught the glimmer of Tomoya’s gun as the yakuza crouched to support his quivering form—a gun, oh I can use that—these idiots taught me how to use that—

_We should all just die, after all, Hiroki isn’t here anymore—_

_I won’t be able to see him, his face, his smile, wouldn’t be able to hear his laughter and his voice—he was gone, forever gone and so is the world—_

So let’s just—

And even before Tomoya could react, Takahiro—with all his remaining strength—grabbed the gun and shoved the man away, aiming the gun and pulling the trigger and shooting somewhere at the left of the startled yakuza.

“Taka-chan—,”

“Don’t move!” he screamed, pointing the loaded gun to the man. There’s probably something written on his face—be it desperation or the determination to just end it all—it was enough to keep the yakuza kneeling on the ground, “Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot you!”

“You won’t,” Tomoya sighed and raised his arms when Taka cocked the gun towards his direction once more, “Taka-chan, listen to me—I need to get you to safety,” he started, “Aniki will be hunting down Satoh-san so I need to get you to—,” he tried moving up, but Taka shoot him, his aim was so off that it just hit the goddamned floor, Taka’s body staggering back at the ricochet, “Don’t make me use force on you, Taka-chan!”

“Don’t make me  _kill_  you, Tomoya!” he screamed back, tears running down his messy face, “I’ve done  _everything_  you’ve asked me, done  _everything_  what that bastard wanted from me, and yet, they didn’t spare my brother! He—he was—he was so  _pure_  and  _kind_ —and I love—he’s the only reason that’s keeping me alive and yet—and yet—,”

“Taka-chan—,”

“Satoh-san killed him,” Taka said, almost a whisper, before hardening his glares at the yakuza, he wants blood—every fiber of his being is screaming for revenge—wants to see that man decapitated, wants to hear him screaming and begging, wants to see him gasping for breath and Taka would just watch—silently watch like how the doctor did as he lets Hiroki died—, “Satoh-san should die…he must die—,”

“No, Taka-chan, we need to get you to safety—,”

“No.”

Tomoya froze when Taka suddenly stopped crying. He wiped his tears away as he stared at the floor, conscious of the yakuza’s gaze, watching—observing—him. He needs to think, he needs to get his revenge, he needs to see a way out—and most of all, he needs to see Hiroki.

Even just his body, he wants to see him—

Even for one last time, he wants his brother’s face to be his last memory from this miserable, terrible life that he had lived.

_I am so tired._

He sniffled and calmly— _eerily_  calmly stared at the sea-weed head yakuza.

The only person tying him to the world of the living has passed away—cruelly, mercilessly slaughtered like that. He was ready to give the world to him, even at the expense of his own life and body. He was doing everything for him, whoring himself out to save him, and yet, in the end, it was all for  _nothing_.

_I just want to rest._

“Taka-cha—,”

“You need to get me to the hospital, Tomoya,” Taka softly said as he caressed the gun in his hand. How something so pretty and light could kill hundreds of people, he wonders.

“That’s not possible, Taka-chan,” Tomoya stood his ground, glaring at him with the tenacity of a proper yakuza. If…if Taka is in his right mind, he would probably cower under that powerful stare—so cold, so harsh, promising pains if he won’t agree to calm down and come with him—but he’s not.

He’s long gone.

He was just a walking corpse right now, equipped with only one aim—

_I wanna go…I wanna go…_

“Aniki would definitely have my head this time if I ever bring you there—,” Tomoya’s eyes instantly widened as Taka slowly raise the hand holding the gun, “And you know that I can defeat and man-handle you—,”

“I know,” Taka answered, nodding, as he pressed the end of the gun on the side of his head, his index finger playing with the trigger as he stared at the yakuza’s horrified pale face with all the seriousness he could muster—

He will die, he would be dead—

_But he would drag everyone down with him._

If he goes down,  _so is Satoh and Toru-san and everything they have._

“—I won’t threaten to kill you because you’re stronger than me,” he said before tilting his head, “But are you faster than me? What if I pull this trigger, Tomoya? What would your precious Aniki do to you…?”

“Takahiro…” Tomoya gritted his teeth as he practically froze on his spot, “You can’t do that—Aniki won’t allow you to—,”

“Die?” he mocked, his fingers shaking as he held the gun closer, the cold metal digging on his soft flesh, “What could he do right now? I’m tired, Tomoya…” he wearily said, “And there’s really nothing for me to hold on to this world….my brother’s dead…and I want to see him right now, so maybe…maybe you should just obey me or else…” wide, crazed almond-shaped eyes stared through the narrow eyes of the green-haired man, “…maybe Toru-san would come to an unmoving Takahiro, with a  _bullet in his head_ , don’t you think so…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dead one was finally revealed though all of you probably had predicted that already. Please tell me your thoughts, ne?
> 
> Thanks for reading~


	33. It's a Mighty Long Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I forgot to mention yesterday that this would be the final chapter?? Eh??
> 
> Gomen, gomen, so ayways, I present to you, the final chapter of How the Mighty Have Fallen! Also, I suck at doing action scenes, seriously gaaaaah
> 
> Disclaimer: I've been pleading for over a year now, OOR is not and will never be mine so please, please don't sue me.

Takahiro was eight when their parents died.

He was a son of a wealthy family, the eldest among the three child. He wasn’t anything like he is right now—he was a _brat_ , only thinking about himself and how he bullies his little brothers— _Tomohiro was seven, Hiroki was four._ He was a little tyrant, and everything that he had ever wanted would be brought to him on a silver platter—but everything changed on that one cold, rainy night.

They we’re spending a few nights in their private cabins in the wood, when Hiroki first suffered from his illness. Panicked, their parents decided to cut the vacation short and go back to the city and have their youngest child checked by a doctor. But little Takahiro— _king-like Takahiro_ didn’t want that. His father promised that they would go boating the next day! That they would be hinting for animals the next day, but now they have to go back to the city! it’s already so dark and it’s raining and he wants to just sleep but no, here they are, driving through the zigzag lanes with a crying Hiroki, a scowling Tomohiro and Takahiro who’s been throwing tantrums, kicking the back of the driver’s seat just to annoy his father.

“I don’t wanna go home!” he insisted, kicking the seat once more, earning the very rare cuss from his father, “Why can’t we just stay in the cabins?!”

“Why don’t you hold your brother for a moment, Takahiro,” his mom said and even protesting, she deposited the screaming and blue-ish Hiroki on his lap, “I’ll just find his inhaler, okay?”

“But, Mom!” Taka was furious, so he through Hiroki’s shoes towards the front seat, hitting his father’s head—and everything happened so fast—the car swerved, and with the wet road, it was a perfect _catalyst_ for a disaster. Everything was loud and everything hurts, and when Takahiro woke up, with a sleeping Hiroki on his chest—in a hospital somewhere in the city—everything was gone.

He had _killed_ them all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was a total chaos outside the hospital when the two of them arrived. There are police cars everywhere, the entrances were secured and the usually barely lit place is being illuminated by the blinding flashes of blue and red. There are a lot of suit-cladded persons tho, and upon seeing Tomoya, a few of the parted, giving way for the leader’s right hand man. Taka closely followed the green-haired yakuza, the gun still cold and heavy in his hand. He won’t hesitate to shoot himself if someone—if anyone would dare to touch him right now.,

He wants to see Hiroki.

And if these _motherfuckers_ would stand on his way, he would sure as hell raise some shits in here. He’s not scared of anything— _of anyone_ —anymore. He just wants to see Hiroki, and he would do everything to get to his brother, cradle his body one last time before he would follow.

This hell would be all over.

He would be dead—even before Toru-san could see him—even before he could order him to stop and refrain from hurting himself—from damaging his property—he would be _long_ dead.

_And we would be together, ne, Hiroki?_

Ne?

“Are you still sure about this—,”

The soft look on his face instantly turned into a scowl as he snapped his glare at the man walking in front of him, “I’m dead sure,” he hissed, “Bring me to my brother, Tomoya. I don’t care how, just…” a pained look flickered across his face, “I need to get to Hiroki…”

The yakuza looked at him for a long time before he solemnly nodded and guided him towards the back of the building, “This way, then, Taka-chan…”

 

 

* * *

 

To say that there was chaos inside the building is a huge understatement. Taka can smell fire and smoke, and maybe there’s something burning inside but damn if he cares. The whole building could burn to the fucking ground and he wouldn’t give a flying fuck anymore, so when Tomoya says that he would check on his Aniki, Taka let him be, his weak legs carrying him to the floor where Hiroki’s room is.

It was…

It doesn’t look anything like how the entire floor look yesterday. The walls were bullet-ridden, filled with tiny holes and there’s some unconscious men— _oh, Taka when would you be smart enough to realize that they’re not just merely unconscious, but dead_ —all dead—and Taka had to step over them, to reach his destination. The lights were flickering and he could hear random gunfire from below the floor.

Someone’s still fighting.

And he’s sure that it’s probably till those two, armed with their countless men—two leaders trying to devour each other.

_Do whatever you want_ , he thought as he finally stepped in front of the room—the door was flung open, bullet holes scattered everywhere. Breathing started to became difficult for him as he relived that scenery in his mind, his Hiroki— _sweet, little Hiroki who had fought enough for his life_ —slowly dying, gasping for breath, silently screaming for help.

But no one came.

Satoh-san had let him die—Satoh-san killed him.

_Taka had killed him_ —because if he wasn’t involved with those crazy people, if he wasn’t just dragged into his merciless world then his brother—the light of his life—would still be very much alive, waiting for Taka with a steaming meal and laughter’s and warmth.

He would be here—

_Living, breathing, loving Takahiro—_

Unlike—unlike now—

Taka slowly, ever so slowly and shakily padded towards the bed in the center of the room. From his blurry vision, he could see the limp arm dangling from the edge, the blankets strew everywhere and there he is—there’s Hiroki—

_My Hiroki—_

_My brother—who was kind and lovely and caring—my brother—_

Sobs spilled from his mouth as he finally made his way towards the bed. There lays Hiroki, eyes wide and unseeing—the glassy orbs lacked of their usual luster, the usual shine of life. He was pale, why was he so pale?

“H-hi—,” he stuttered.

His mouth was open, like he’s drowning, like he’s desperately pleading for air—and Taka couldn’t see anymore as his eyes were filled with fat glob of tears, streaming down on his cheeks and blinding him—and he wished that the pain would just _stop,_ that the memories of that cold, dark night would _stop_ from flooding his mind—his parents’ face, his brother’s face, the cries of Hiroki—little Hiroki who was the only one left for him—

“Hiroki…” he chanted, “ _Hiroki_ …” Taka’s trembling arms took the body and hugged him—it was cold, it so, so cold— _but why? He was warm when I left him? His statistics are good when I left him—he was alive when I left him so why_ —, “D-don’t leave me—white, hot, blinding pain pierced his system as he cried, completely bawled in pain and regret and guilt and all the anguish spilling from his mouth in the form of his brother’s name—

“Hiroki, _Hiro_ …”

He caressed the pale face...

“Answer me…please… _please_ …”

Shook the face, running his hands over his brother's pulse.

“Niichan’s _here_ …Niichan would never leave you…”

He threaded his fingers through the hair he had loved, loved so much.

“Come on, come on…talk to Niichan…I’m here…”

There were loud gunshots echoing in the background but Taka was blind—he could only see his brother’s limp form; Taka was deaf—for all he can hear was his voice pleading for his brother to come back, and the deadly silence of the room.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry… _I’m sorry…”_ he whispered—again and again—as he rocked the fallen body in his arms, cradling his brother for god-know-show-long, until the tears had dried, and until there was no pain, no more feeling, no more thoughts except—

Except...

Except for this urge—this _itching_ urge to make _them_ pay for this.

Make _him_ pay for this—Taka softly closed the eyes of his brother and tucked him under the blankets—like how he would do when Hiroki was younger—kissing him goodbye as he set out for the room, the gun gleaming bright in his hand.

The one who started all of this…

_I will make him pay…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nobody knows where Takahiro had come from—one moment, Satoh and Toru-san was trying to kill for each other—dozens of bloody bodies littering the lobby of the hotel, until it was only the two of them standing under the shimmering diamonds of the grand chandelier. The place is in a mess, and Taka could see Tomoya’s unconscious form in leaning against the wall, a hand pressing on the side of his stomach to stop the blood from seeping out.

So that’s why he didn’t go back for me earlier.

But he doesn’t care, Taka doesn’t care anymore as he goes straight for the two, not minding the bullets zooming from opposite directions.

“Hah!” Satoh aimed his gun towards Toru-san who immediately froze at the sight of him, aiming his own gun towards the other yakuza, his hair disheveled, and there ware long gashes at the side of his cheeks. His once pristine white coat is now drenched with blood, but the mocking smile on his face is still the same. And oh did Taka’s blood instantly curl at the sight of that smirk. “Fancy seeing you here, Taka-pin,” he said, “Are you here to finally kill your torturer?”

Heavily-lidded eyes shifted their gaze towards Takahiro, and for the umpteenth time already that night, he could feel the heaviness of the gun in his hand. _I could kill them, kill both of them then what? I’ll probably kill myself too…_

He sadly glanced at Toru-san who was warily eyeing him, his face is the perfect mask of indifference—the perfect façade of the mightiest leader. His bright red hair was shining like pools of Lava under the brilliant chandeliers, a few patches in his suit were darker than the other, and his hand is bleeding and yet his aim was firm—he could kill Satoh-san at the same speed Satoh-san could end his life.

And it was funny, because now he feels a bit of dread at the thought that Toru-san might die—might also leave him.

That can’t happen—

Wouldn’t you like that? His mind echoed, the sane part of his mind, probably, he was the reason why you’ve endured so much in the short span of time since meeting him. If he didn’t just lay his eyes on Takahiro that night, if he didn’t just dragged Takahiro all the way down to the darkest part of the society then—then Hiroki would still be here—

So let Satoh-san kill him—

_No!_ he sharply gasped, Satoh-san killed Hiroki! Toru-san just wanted to protect us but he ruined it all—Satoh-san ruined it all—

_Protect?_ Taka wanted to laugh at that thought. How could the man protect him if he, himself, is the one causing Taka so much _anguish_ , so much _pain_? It’s funny really but he couldn’t shake off this feeling—this yearning to let him live so that he would be able to pay for his sins.

_But whose sin is the greatest?_

“You killed my brother,” he gritted out, hands shaking as he glared at the doctor who just cocked a brow at him “Even if you promised that you will save him—even if you offered me a way out, you still—you still—,” pained sobs cracked his voice as he continues on glaring at the auburn-haired man. If looks could only kill, Satoh-san would just combust into fucking flames right now. He hates him, hates every fiber of his being, hates that knowing smirk, hates that narrowed eyes that seem to mock his distress.

“So you’ve seen that, huh?” Satoh-san nodded towards the direction of the redhead yakuza—seemingly unfazed, lacking any sense of guilt nor hesitance— “Seems like denying and passing the blame to your master is useless at this moment—,”

Pass the blame?

He killed Hiroki just to blame Toru-san for his brother’s death?

For what?

So that Taka would hate the leader?

Really?

His brother’s life—his brother’s oh-so precious life was _wasted_ just because of that…?

Taka started to heave, the fingers clutching the gun a bit too tightly. He had done it; he really had done it—just for the sake of this stupid war— _his brother has perished—_

“—but aren’t you gonna ask on why your precious Master is here, Taka-pin?” Taka’s eyes widened at that as he slowly turned towards the perfectly schooled face of the leader, “Why is your leader out here in the hospital, when you’re at his house? What does he want? What does he want in your brother’s room…?”

Lies!

No, no, no—don’t believe him—he’s telling lies! Toru-san would never—he would never do that— _he promised—_

And a yakuza never breaks his word.

                                         But he could kill—Taka had watched it with his own eyes—these people could become cold-blooded killers all for their goals—

                                                                        But he _promised_ —

                 Satoh-san also _promised_ , remembered—

                                                                                                                                                 Even _Hiroki_ promised that he would wake up—

                                                                                 They promised—!

                                                                                                                    Promises are _meant_ to be broken—

                                                       He would— _he would keep me safe, he would—_

                                                                                                                           What for? Why would you even have to live when your reason for living is already gone—

                                    No—

                                                       —dead—

                                   No, no—

                                                                    —leaving you all alone because you’re pathetic—

Stop—

 

“Takahiro…” he heard the yakuza spoke, but it sounds so far, the thoughts drowning all his senses as the fought over inside his head. It hurts, feels kike someone’s cracking his skull open, splitting it into two with a huge hammer—

—because you _killed_ your parents and brother—

I didn’t—I’m _sorry_ —

—and you even dragged your poor brother into this mess—

That’s why you _deserve_ it—

That’s why _he_ deserves it—

That’s why you need to _go_ —

That’s why _he_ needs to go—

 

“STOOOOP!!!!” Taka screeched, raising his gun and pointing it towards the shocked yakuza, his finger pulling the goddamned trigger—not even giving the man the chance to point his own gun towards him—firing bullets after bullets. Of course, it didn’t hit any vital spot at his first try, one or two hit the walls, but he managed to hit the man’s legs, the man’s arms, his stomach, his chest—the man flailing and firing rounds after rounds somewhere at the ceiling—probably in a desperate attempt to kill Taka too but he won’t let him—

_Die! Die!_

_It’s all because of you—!_

_It’s all because of you!!!_

The last bullet went straight to the man’s head, and there was an explosion of pink and red, the man’s body falling limply on the floor, blood and bits of brain splattered everywhere, coating the _long auburn hair_ with a chaotic mess.

_I did it—_

_I killed him—Hiroki, look, I killed the one who killed you—_

_Look, look—_

Somewhere far, Taka could hear the aggressive clanking of metals—

_Toru-san, I did it—_

_I did it—_

—but even before he could glance back to his leader, to his Master, Taka felt a strong push on his back—

“Go!”

—shoving him far on the goddamned floor, the loud thud of his body against the marble tiles was followed by the deafening sound of the crashing metal and glass and crystals, the shards exploding into tinier pieces as the grand chandelier smashed down the floor, crushing the figure who pushed Taka out of harm’s way.

_N…no…_

He shakily looked up, the pieces of glass digging against the palms of his hands as he stared at the wreck of the once lavished chandelier—and the blood pooling around it—

Toru-san’s blood.

_No, no that can’t be—_

He couldn’t be—

_I just…I just spared you so why—_

_I thought—I thought—_

No, no, no—

You can’t—

_You can’t leave me too, don’t go—_

Taka’s eyes widened, his mouth parting open— “A-ah—!”—in a soundless scream as he dragged himself—crawled towards the rubbles and tried to pull the golden metals off the unmoving figure but all of his struggles were futile, “N-no, no, please, please, don’t go. Don’t leave me…don’t go, please, please…Toru-san…Toru-san… _Toru-san—,”_

And Taka chanted that name—over and over again—like a haunting scream in the middle of the empty lobby, his pained cries echoing far, as he stayed there—crying and wrecked and bloody and broken, _oh-so broken_ —with the _unmoving_ bodies of two of the most powerful men in the Japanese underworld.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He had _killed_ them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please (and hopefully everyone who adores this fic) drop a comment about your reactions and shits about this story gaaaaah
> 
> Thank you for being with me and with our batshit insane yakuza-toru, poor-taka, even-poorer Hiroki, side-kick Tomo and Ryota and shitty-Takeru for over a year!


	34. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to everyone! Send me vids of fireworks gaaaaaaah
> 
>  We're back on square one--with a powerful yakuza and a helpless, clueless person.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please don't sue me because this is finally done. And I regret nothing.

 

There were voices...

Murmuring...

 

* * *

 

 

"Don't touch him!"

"B-but Ta—chan—!"

"Don't fucking touch him, Tomoya!"

 

* * *

 

That voice...why does it sound so wrecked? So desperate and _lonely_...? He wants to listen more but he was tired...he wants to sleep...

* * *

 

 

"Are you sure about this?"

"You might be Aniki's _whore_ but—!"

"Ryota!"

"I don't care...I just want to protect what...what was his...what he was...I don't care about...about everything else anymore..."

 

* * *

The voices were back, but this time, another one is also there. They were talking rapidly, and with his exhausted mind, he really couldn't follow the flow of their conversations. Besides he wants to sleep, and wake up and maybe...maybe he can comfort the owner of that voice... _maybe..._

* * *

 

 

 

"This is not _healthy_ anymore!" someone was shouting, "You've been doing a great job but you have to rest too! You've barely spent time outside, you eat less, and stayed here since that day!"

There was a hushed silence.

"I don't wanna leave him..." the soft, pretty voice said, "He needs me...he told me he needs me...what if he wakes up and we're not here...? So I can't...I can't leave him..."

 

* * *

Him...?

Why does he feel a sense of warmth at that...that declaration of loyalty...of _faithfulness_...?

He doesn't know...

He was tired, and maybe he'll find the answers once he wakes up...

* * *

 

 

"It's been _months_ , Mori-chan, do you think, Aniki will..."

"He will..." was the solemn response, "He's the _mightiest_ of them all, so he will...I'm sure of that..."

 

* * *

He spoke so confidently but sometimes...he would listen to him sob and cry beside him...whimpering for him go back, to wake up and open his eyes...and he wants to do that, god knows how he yearn to open his eyes and gaze upon the _source_ of that voice...

So warm...

So comforting...

So _precious_...

* * *

 

 

"Are you sure about this? It'll be painful?!"

There was a short, hollow laugh.

" _Everything_ has been painful—I was in constant pain—since you guys came into my life."

No, who hurt you? Who has dared to inflict on you, my lovely...lovely...

What was the _word_...again...?

"Something like _that_ won't break me..."

 

 

* * *

But he was crying in pain after that...telling him it hurts...that the needles hurt...that waiting for him to wake up _hurts the most..._

He wants to raise his hand and ruffled his hair, tell him that it's alright...that they will be alright...

But he was tired. Tired and frustrated at his inability to wake up and protect this person from everything that is cruel in this world...

* * *

 

 

 

"It came out beautifully...why a _phoenix_ though?"

"Hmmm...?" there was a soft hum, so fragile and innocent, "Because I have been reborn...and so is this family...like a phoenix, we would all rise from the ashes, reclaim what was originally ours...and _burn everything else_ on our wake..."

 

* * *

Since then, every night, the person would sing for him. He would be lulled with that soft, raspy voice...so angelic, rough along the edges, Japanese and English melding into one sweet song of nostalgia, reminding of something akin to their first meeting.

* * *

 

 

_“When we met the pain stood still it was us_

_Then suddenly it's where'd you go_

_The system blew I knew_

_This side of me I want a little more_

_But inside it seems I’m just a little boy_

_Nothing else!”_

 

* * *

But he usually didn't finish his song. Something would come up, needing the person's attention or he would fall asleep, a content feeling bubbling in his chest as the song sounds like a complete lullaby. Some nights he would listen to his heart-wrenching sobs...the words spilling, and even if he can't see the person's face, he knows that he's crying and wailing for someone...and it breaks his heart to hear him like that...to hear his pretty, _pretty_ voice crack like that...

* * *

 

 

_“Don't go it's a mighty long fall_

_When you thought love was the top_

_Oh no it's a wake up call_

_When your life went into shock_

_It seems like gravity keeps pulling us back down_

_Don't go it's a mighty long fall_

_When you know time is up “_

 

* * *

Sometimes he would sing in Japanese but instead of love or longing, he can feel the _resentment_ in that quivering voice. _Gone_ was the soft pleadings, _gone_ was the yearning—all replaced by words _blaming_ him, making him try to think of all the bad things he had ever done...to make this person angry and desperate.

* * *

 

 

_“Uso hitotsu ai wo futatsu (One lie, two loves)_

_Sorede nanto ka yarisugoshite kita deshou? (But somehow you’ve gone too far, right?)_

_Demo sore ja mou boku wo dama senai deshou? (Even so you can’t deceive me any longer)_

_Jyou dou suru doushi yo! (What are you going to do now? What should I do?)”_

 

* * *

He could imagine the person straddling his hips, hands ghosting on his skin, trailing up to his neck—gently, adoringly, before it would grip the pale column as if he's thinking of _strangling_ him. But then the touch would fleet away, and the haunting song would start once again, firmer, angrier, _more resentful than ever._

"You can't just die like that, you know...can't leave me like this after all what you've done...so wake up... _wake up_..."

* * *

 

 

_“Don't go it's a mighty long fall_

_When you thought love the top_

_Oh no it's a wake up call_

_When your life went into shock_

_Egaki tagari na mirai niasu wanai (That imagined future will not bring tomorrow,)_

_Issou douse itamunara mitame tsuzukeyou (Come and see the pain you have caused)_

_Tsuzukeyou! (Let’s keep going)”_

 

* * *

But most of the times, the person would sing against him—lying his head on his chest. His fingers running through his hair, caressing the contours of his face as he mumbled the words—pleading, praying, _begging_ for him to wake up.

* * *

 

 

_“Get up Get up Get up Get up_

_Time to make amends for what you did_

_Get up Get up Get up Get up_

_Running with the demons in your head”_

 

* * *

He wants to move, wants to lift his fingers and touch that obviously crying face. He wants to raise his arms and reach for him, feel him and _see_ him—the person who has been on his side since he started the long, dire process of healing and recovering. The person who had never left him— _not once_ —the one who cared for him, and talk to him and sing songs for him.

His _dearest_.

He might not be able to see him yet but _he already knows_ —he can already feel this bond that pulled him strongly towards that person. One day, he would wake up _completely_ —one day he would see him and embrace him and kiss him and make him feel loved and cherished the way he had done to him all these days...weeks...months...

_One day..._

* * *

 

 

_“Don't go it's a mighty long fall_

_When you thought love was the top_

_Oh no it's a wake up call_

_When your life went into shock_

_It seems like gravity keeps pulling us back down_

_Don't go it's a mighty long fall_

_When you know time is up”_

 

* * *

That day came without any warning.

He could hear the rustling of clothes, the warmth beside him slowly moving away from him. _Wait_ —he tried lifting his fingers but he was too weak— _wait! Don't leave me—don't—don't go—_

He struggled, pulling all the strength he could muster, trying to open his goddamned eyes. It took a few moments, the rustling of fabric continues somewhere beside him and the fear that the person would finally leave him is going stronger as seconds painfully ticked by.

_Wake up...wake up..._

His finger—one, two, almost all of them—twitched above the covers of the bed.

_Get up...get up..._

His eyes...he needs to open his eyes...

_Open—see—feel—_

That person—

_Don't go—_

Don't go—

_And then there was light._

* * *

 

 

 

It was blurry at first, his head pounding with unfathomable pain as his senses were overloaded—the sounds, the light, the feel of the sheets covering his limp body, the dizzying motion as the bend sprang when the silhouette pushed itself off the bed.

_There he is—_

He sucked a deep breath, like someone who took his first breath after almost drowning. Everything cleared up, everything went noisy and vivid—

And he was greeted by a petite, half naked back.

The person—his most precious _prize_ —is on the process of pulling his kimono off, revealing the otherwise creamy expanse of his back—a very vivid, very alive image of a phoenix can be seen, tattooed on his back and upper right arm. Swirls of gold and red and violet inks melded and formed the breath-taking image—a golden, flaming phoenix rising up from its very own ashes.

It was _beautiful_.

The prettiest tattoo he has ever seen

"S-so..." he tried saying, his voice raw and scratchy for months of not using it. It feels dry, like he has swallowed a shit-ton of cotton. Just one word and he's already on the verge of blacking out because of the immense headache and exhaustion, "p-pretty..."

Suddenly, the image of the phoenix was taken away from his sight—as the man turned his back in a dizzying speed—instead replaced by bouncy curly dark locks, wide, tearing almond-shaped eyes, tall, regal nose and full, plump lips.

He was pale, like he had seen a ghost but his eyes were shining with unshed tears of happiness, of relief, of hope.

He looks so good.

_You look so good, my..._

_My..._

He froze at that.

"You're awake..." the man said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he's scared that a subtle increase on the pitch of his voice would shatter this pretty dream, the good illusion that he was woken up. "You're _finally_ awake..." he said, trudging back towards the bed and sitting by the edge.

Fear gripped his chest as he dumbly stared at the weeping face of the person looming down at him with a soft, gentle smile on his face.

_He's my..._

_My..._

_He's..._

_My—_

_But..._

_But..._

_Who am I...?_

He glanced up at the man, his gentle features not faltering for a bit as he threaded those nimble fingers through his hair, the touch a pleasant sensation was very welcome as his insides went into complete turmoil—inwardly racking up his brain for something, some names, some events, something that would make him remember—but there's _nothing_.

 

Absolutely nothing.

He gasped.

 

"What's wrong?" his forehead creased in confusion and worry as he leaned closer, "Do you want me to get your doctor? I'll call him—just wait here and don't fall asleep, okay—,"

"No!" he barked, making the man flinched and froze on his spot at that simple order. "N-no...I..."

 

_I'm..._

_I'm..._

Nothing.

No one

He couldn't remember a thing—everything besides this man's presence, his touches, his voice— _it was his everything_ at the moment—his beginning, his birth and it scared him—bit knowing everything frightens him—

"You...?" he croaked out, every fiber of his being screaming for him to stop and just fall back into slumber, but he couldn't afford to do that—just a bit more, until he could gain his name...could get this person's name—, "Who're...you...?"

There was the look of pure horror on the man's face—his mouth parting open, closing again as he was obviously at lost for words. A fresh set of tears spring from the already puffy eyes, cascading like waterfalls on his pale cheeks.

_No, no, don't cry..._

_Don't cry..._

"You..." he gasped out, his voice hoarse, "You can't remember who I am...?"

He slowly shook his head, watching as the man let out a pained howl, doubling over on the sheets, fisting the fabric before letting out frustrated screams after screams.

The sounds sending shards piercing through his heart with every quivering cry. He thought...he thought that he could protect him...could make him stop crying when he wakes up and yet...and yet...

He watched as the man broke down into a crying mess that seems to last forever. It took so long—so long that he couldn't really tell if he's still awake or this is just a part of his dreams—before he had finally got some semblance of calmness, pushing himself of his hands before sitting upright and wiping the tears from his eyes and cheeks. He blinked, multiple times before smiling.

"You're really a _cruel_ one..." he murmured, raising a hand to caress his face, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw as he loomed down on him, eyes wide and a _sinister_ grin plastered on his supple lips, "after all that you've done to me...you're just going to _forget_ me...? That's really unfair, you know, Toru-san...?"

_Toru-san._

He had called him Toru-san.

Is that his name?

_Am I...am I Toru...?_

"Name..." he forced the words out, "'s that my name...?"

 A pair of almond-shaped eyes filled with sorrow..."Yes..." before the longing and yearning quickly morphed into something dark— _like reminiscent of a nightmare and traumas_ —something twisted, glimmers of pain, promises of _revenge_ , and _lust_...desire pooling on those deep, dark orbs which instantly took his breath away.

"You are Toru-san...just _Toru..."_ he said, his hand gentle and warm against his cooling skin, a soft, slightly deranged smile forming on his lips, "And I'm Takahiro—the _Leader_ of the Yamashita Clan."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

-END-

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so scared when I wrote the first sex scene of this shitty fic. Really.  
> Because there are real people involved you know? And writing Real-Life Fics is kinda frowned upon, with the argument of “what would you feel if you would read yourself doing this, doing that” and aside from the massive blushing spree, it’s one of the reasons why I stopped writing this before.  
> It was dangerous, and I’m scared so I always put the disclaimer and the plea to not sue me coz gaaaah.  
> But anyways, the HTMHF universe is really unique and I think it sparks a lot of creativity among our fellow writers and artists—which is good. I mean, yakuza Toru and naked, submissive Takahiro is like a honey that the artists couldn’t resist on drawing for.  
> Anyways, this fic was started as a way to balance the then fluffy and light Reason. I mean, we would die with all the fluffiness and lightness of it so I thought on doing another shit—a series to be exact—where we could see ToruKa in other universes. And I think that went quite successful??  
> But anyways, thank you for supporting this fic! Tho it’s actually not my favorite, it gained a lot of attention and love and that made me happy and high enough to finish it gaaaaah (tho the ending sucks, don’t you think so).  
> It took over a year and now we’re here.  
> I’m glad that someone—almost all of you—enjoyed this~!  
> Thank you for the fanarts and the mentions and every time you would say that something reminds you of HTMHF—those words really made me happy in the past few months!  
> Thank you so, so much!  
> Until we meet again~!
> 
> *bows waist-deep.
> 
> -TORUKAisJUSTICE
> 
>  
> 
> Please check out the lovely fanarts made by these amazing people (except for me coz I'm just shamelessly promoting my shits):
> 
> From [**k_cat10969**](https://www.instagram.com/k_cat10969/?hl=en):  
> [COVER](https://www.instagram.com/p/BpP_jE2notE/)  
> [TORU'S OLDER BROTHER](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bj8D5zkAjgZ/)  
> [COOL TORU-SAN](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bi1zVkNFnAM/)  
> [CAR SCENE](https://vk.com/photo-139659733_456239120)
> 
>  
> 
> From [**c.h.a.o.s.toruka**](https://www.instagram.com/c.h.a.o.s.toruka/?hl=en):  
> [TORU, TAKA PLUS BLOOD](https://www.instagram.com/p/Br0u_3UgMtO/)
> 
>    
> From [**shion_taichou**](https://www.instagram.com/shion_taichou/?hl=en):  
> [TORU WITH SLICKED BACK HAIR](https://www.instagram.com/p/BoqHQPcHFUH/)  
> [YAKUZA RYOTA AND TOMOYA](https://www.instagram.com/p/BqQbbfJAr4p/)  
> [YAKUZA-SATOH-SAN](https://www.instagram.com/p/BqjDcr1HK56/)  
> [TORU-SAN LOOKING BADASS](https://www.instagram.com/p/BqkflaDggby/)  
> [A MANGA SCENE FROM CHAPTER 3](https://www.instagram.com/p/BqqpYY0AOVY/)  
> [A MANGA SCENE FROM CHAPTER 14](https://www.instagram.com/p/BqvAkBmgYZF/)  
> [TOTALLY R18 STUFF](https://www.instagram.com/p/BslTniIASJ6/)  
> [TOTALLY R18 CAR SCENE](https://www.instagram.com/p/BoqGxhTHrFn/)
> 
>  
> 
> From [**toruka_is_justice**](https://www.instagram.com/toruka_is_justice/):  
> [FIRST FANART](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bkl19YfhvFJ/)  
> [MAYBE FOR COVER...](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bkl6F3mg4no/)  
> [SKETCH 1 (bath tub chibi)](https://www.instagram.com/p/BlsAAG6BZX1/)  
> [SKETCH 2 (dressing room chibi)](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bl4uqPlHg32/)  
> [SKETCH 3.](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bm7Mbrpn_N5/)  
> [SKETCH 4](https://www.instagram.com/p/BnxNIvKHMqf/)  
> [SKETCH 5](https://www.instagram.com/p/BoMEq0fAWOe/)  
> [ANNIVERSARY ART](https://www.instagram.com/p/BpQUJz1AVpo/)  
> [TORU-SAN'S TATTOO](https://www.instagram.com/p/BklyPy6hZBz/)  
> [TAKERU-SAN'S TATTOO](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bm2dMrFBDP1/)  
> [TAKAHIRO'S TATTOO](https://www.instagram.com/p/BsCeekEAE96/%22)
> 
>  
> 
>  **COLLAGES** from [**ToruKa Community in VK**](https://vk.com/toruka) can be found [here](https://vk.com/topic-97349547_41375027). You can also check each chapter's NOTES to find them.
> 
> THANKS FOR EVERYONE WHO DEDICATED THEIR TIME, PASSION AND TALENT FOR THESE. YOU ARE ALL THE BEST~!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what do you think?
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


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